Without You
by likes-it-bubbly
Summary: This story is a sequel to SOMEONE LIKE YOU and awfully sappy. How does Perry's and Della's life continue? Where will they be a couple years after seeing each other again? How will their past affect their future?
1. Chapter 1

****WITHOUT YOU****

**Disclaimer: **This story is a sequel to SOMEONE LIKE YOU and was written upon request. Apparently, I've been in my sappy mood when I started writing this, so please humor me a little. I know it's over the top, but since this tale started with a strange little scene that doesn't fit anywhere I felt I should just risk it and go romantic and couply all the way. The characters are not mine but I like to play with them :) I hope ESG won't mind.

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><p><strong>Chapter One<br>**

Perry Mason woke to the feeling of cold air brushing against his chest. His arm felt numb and tingly, his half naked form shivered as his fingers scanned the empty sheets right next to him. He opened his eyes to the darkness of the room and pulled the blanket closer around him. There was a glint of light shining from the bathroom, the sound of running water and a familiar yawn. He propped himself up on one arm and waited. A minute. Another. Then checked the alarm clock. It was only 3:42am.

After a while, Della exited the bathroom and killed the lights. She pulled his bathrobe closer to her body and shivered, then tiptoed back to bed on bare feet. Perry watched how she settled on her side of the bed, her eyes so tired she didn't notice he was lying wide awake right next to her. When she reached for the blanket, he helped tucking her in and moved his arm around her waist in a loving embrace. Then he inched towards her to spoon up and held her until they fell asleep.

It was an hour later when Della stirred him awake once more. She tossed and turned, then jumped out of bed. It always took him a minute to realize she was gone. He turned onto his back, threw his arm over his face and meant to follow her. All it took was two seconds however and he was asleep again. He awoke for good at 7:30, a little hand was pulling at his toe. With his eyes still closed, he heard the sound of running water in the shower, smelled fresh coffee from the kitchen and heard a set of giggles he had grown so used to he wouldn't trade it for anything.

"Amy," the attorney started in a tired voice, trying to suppress a contented smile. "Would you please tell your sister to stop trying to steal my toe?"

Then he opened his eyes to his eldest daughter lying on Della's side of the bed.

"I'm trying, dad," his eight-year-old greeted him with a perfect copy of her mother's most innocent smile. "I really am."

Perry Mason smirked and shot his eyebrows up to widen his eyes as he glared down to his second-in-line who was still pulling at his toe.

"Don't perjure yourself, young lady," he growled sideways at Amy while he reached down to the far end of the bed to pull his five-year-old towards him.

Shrieking from the top of her lungs, Phoebe tried to escape her father's long-reaching arms and failed. Her shrieks bubbled over and merged with fresh giggles as he hugged her and Amy, too.

"Phoebe Rose!" Della's voice sounded from the bathroom in a stern but warm whisper. "Don't wake your father."

"Too late, darling," Perry answered and sent off his brood with a loving smack on both of their bottoms.

Amy grabbed Phoebe's hand and together they ran off, turning around long enough to catch their mother giving them a broad, loving smile.

"Get dressed you two. Breakfast will be ready in ten," Della shouted after them and laughed, then exited the bathroom with a towel barely covering her freshly showered body. Her face showed traces of a facial pack, her curls were damp and unruly, her nails half done and drying.

"I'm sorry, honey," she hummed, ignoring the bedroom eyes her husband shot her way.

"Don't be," Perry gave back and caressed her all over. He would never know how she did it, always looking fresh to him like that in the morning.

"How much did you sleep last night?" He finally asked as he watched her finishing her nails while she was standing in the doorway.

"Enough to get out of bed this morning," Della lied.

"Last time I remember you shot out of bed around five," the lawyer said and stretched his limbs, then got up and followed his wife back into the bathroom to welcome the day with an ardent kiss.

"Sounds about right," she merely answered while she was drying herself.

"Why didn't you kick me in the ribs to go get those frozen waffles?" Perry Mason teased her as he nuzzled her neck. "It's been over a week now."

"I hear them whine, I get up," Della replied matter-of-fact and looked at him in the steamy mirror. "No one said having twins would be easy. Especially not when they're both growing teeth."

"We've agreed to be in this together, Del," Perry reminded her and gently nibbled her earlobe.

"And we are," she returned and handed him his toothbrush. "Which is why you better get ready before we'll be late in court."

Then she dropped her towel and grabbed her stockings to get dressed in front of him, slowed down by fatigue. Her face wouldn't show it but her eyes had never been able to betray him. Perry assisted her when she was looking for her slipdress and watched how she put on her bra. He loved to observe her getting presentable for the office. It was an image he could hold on to all day and had learned to shave to without cutting himself.

When Della was nearly all covered up, she grabbed her makeup and curling iron to finish her appearance. Time for him to jump into the shower and marvel at her transfiguration in a few short minutes. With Amy and Phoebe already shouting at each other in the background, waking Kate and Liz with their noise, his admiration for her stamina only grew although he knew that right now she was rolling her eyes.

When he finally exited the shower, jumped into his suit and tie and finished off with some aftershave to please his wife, he was ready to rush downstairs but stopped as he found Della sitting on the edge of their bed. The alarm clock behind her was already pushing 8am but she didn't seem to mind and took her time to slide seductively into her peeptoes. When she got up, she steadied herself against him for a second and blinked her eyes to kill a wave of nausea from getting up too fast. Then she reached up to fix his tie and pulled her husband into a lingering kiss.

"Happy anniversary," she hummed and softly caressed his lips with her index finger while her brown eyes studied his face with an intensity he only knew from making love to her.

"Six years to the day, baby," Perry pulled Della into a tight embrace and fondled her with one of his hands, completely aware of the tightness of their daily schedule. "And look how our life has changed."


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two**

Perry loved to hold her hand in his as they walked down to join their girls for breakfast. He slipped his arm around her waist as soon as they reached the bottom of the stairs to steal another kiss from his wife. He smiled when Della huddled her body against his, seeking his warmth.

"If you keep that up I'm not sure I'll last until tonight," Perry Mason whispered as his mouth grazed his wife's tender neck.

Della smiled like she sometimes did at the office, when Mrs. Mason pushed Miss Street aside. When she pleaded him to close up shop or gave him an incentive to include her in his train of thoughts.

"What's happening tonight?" Her voice was innocent, contradicting her hungry eyes.

"Dinner and some dancing," Perry answered huskily. "French food, champagne and some music I know the lyrics to."

"Hmm," his wife hummed. "Sounds divine."

"And no growing teeth or tummy aches for one full night," Mason added and sealed his promise with a long deep kiss, interrupted by the sound of their brood walking all over Aunt Mae in the kitchen.

"But first we'll have to drop our pack off at school and get ready for court," he sighed regrettably.

Della nodded, her eyes closed for another moment, her lips still pulsating from her husband's auspicious kiss, an anticipatory smile gracing her rejuvenated face. Nothing boosted her energy more like a spousal morning embrace.

Moments later, Della was sitting at the kitchen table, facing a usual morning of getting ready to leave the house with two kids and two more to stay in the loving care of Aunt Mae for the day. Della briefed the housekeeper on the bare necessities while she was packing her briefcase and barely touched her breakfast, one eye on her two dawdling schoolgirls who were trying to get their father's attention and the other on a mile long task list lying in front of her on the table. Perry Mason sipped at his coffee and neglected his toast, his mind already deeply buried in his current case. Amy tried to decipher the notes her mother had taken the previous day and Phoebe mimicked her father's posture as he was scanning his wife's shorthand. After prepping the housekeeper and sending her off to start the day, Della divided her attention between her crotchety twins and her aunt who was handing her Liz' and Kate's breakfast.

"Finish up, girls or we'll be running late," she tried to focus Phoebe's and Amy's attention on their cereal after a while without really rushing her kids. Being their father's daughters, she knew they were resistant to haste unless it was a case of life and death.

"You heard your mother," Perry mumbled to support his wife's request without averting his eyes from his file. "We have to leave in ten," he added, fully aware of his two oldest daughters competing for his attention.

Della smiled and tried to talk Kate and Liz into eating their baby food without making too much of a mess.

"Sometimes I wonder why I even bother to get dressed for breakfast," she sighed a minute later while she wiped banana mash off her blouse.

"I wouldn't mind the alternative," Perry answered deadpan while his eyes remained fixed on his file.

"I'll go change," his wife returned, ignoring his suggestive remark by pursing her lips.

Perry Mason's eyes were sparkling with mischief when he raised his gaze to meet his daughters' and then Della's.

"The clock's ticking," he said, his mouth forming a dimple smile, prompting his second oldest daughter to giggle cheerfully and winning him over to pull her up onto his lap.

Della put the wipe on the kitchen counter, suppressed a chuckle and shook her head. Then she bent down to place a swift kiss onto Phoebe's head.

"You can come right with me, young lady, to brush your teeth," she said in a motherly voice.

"You, too, Amy," she added and wrapped her arm around her eldest who was happy to snuggle up with her mother without having to compete with her siblings.

"Don't be too long," Perry shouted after them and dove back into the documents and notes before him.

When Della and the girls had left, the attorney felt Mae's kind yet reproachful gaze boring into him while she was trying to finish feeding the twins.

"You shouldn't tease her like that in front of the girls," the old woman failed to scold him. "Amy and Phoebe have been meddlesome enough with their mother since Liz and Kate were born."

"They just miss having her to themselves," Perry answered quietly and teased his twin daughters from across the table. "It will pass once our nightly troublemakers here will have grown out of their sulky phase."

"What if you're going to have another child?" Mae asked carefully, causing the lawyer to raise his eyebrows.

"What makes you say that?" He asked surprised.

Before Mae could give an answer, Della interrupted her aunt by appearing in the doorway. She walked up to Perry and rested her hand onto his shoulder in an intimate caress.

"Are you still brooding over the case?" Della asked warmly and placed a soft kiss onto her husband's head while she was still buttoning up her fresh blouse.

Then she walked around the table to gently wipe her twin daughters' mouths and get them ready for a laid back day with their great-aunt. She placed a soft kiss onto Kate's cheek to say goodbye and handed her over to Mae who gladly excused herself from the private conversation.

"How much did you hear?" Perry asked as he watched his wife going about her morning routine with a natural grace that humbled him.

"Enough to know you're worried," Della answered quietly while she lifted Liz up into her arms to cuddle her. "There's no need."

"Are you expecting again?" Perry Mason asked overwhelmed, his eyes glistening with emotions.

Della avoided his gaze and snuggled up with her daughter instead, causing her to gurgle in delight.

"Don't you want to have another child?" The lawyer suddenly voiced his concern in a voice so low, he wondered if his wife had actually heard him.

The vulnerability in his voice drew Della's attention away from her daughter and back to her husband. Unable to express her feelings, she looked deep into his eyes and waited for Mae to return to pick up the remaining twin. Then she kissed Liz farewell for the day and held her breath until they were alone again.

"I don't even know if I'm pregnant," she finally answered, her voice meek and low as tears were forming in her eyes.

"Don't avoid the subject, darling," Perry said tenderly and got up to pull her close to him. "Wouldn't you be happy about another baby?"

"Would you?" Della looked at him, her face melancholy somehow and undecided.

The way she asked him suddenly made him realize he didn't know. All he could do was hold her and stroke her back, finding comfort in the sensation of her trying to hide away in him.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three**

Following his morning duties, Perry Mason stowed his dawdling schools girls in the backseat of the car and waited for his wife who was running over some last minute questions with the housekeeper. When she left the house, she scanned the car for her family's belonging, then rushed back inside to collect her daughters' neglected lunch boxes and her husband's bursting briefcase. When she finally settled next to him in the passenger's seat, Perry started the engine and pulled out of the driveway.

"How far behind are we?" He queried as he checked on his offspring in the rear mirror.

"A good five minutes," Della answered, her eyes focused on her briefcase to look for something she seemed to miss.

"Time buffer included?" Perry asked sweetly, well aware of his wife's comfortable scheduling.

"Six years into this marriage and you don't know?" His wife returned with a smirk, still preoccupied with her search. "Have you seen my notes?" She sighed after a while, her worry line growing deeper, her eyes displeased.

"I was going through them over breakfast," the attorney replied. "Go check my briefcase. I might have packed them with the files."

Switching her briefcase for his, Della opened the lock and dove her hands inside to retrieve her notepad stuck in-between two folders, expertly hidden to conceal a velvet jewel case her husband had secretly attached to it.

"Found it?" Perry smiled mischievously as he drank in his wife's surprise.

"Oh Perry," Della whispered and carefully lifted her discovery out of his briefcase. "You shouldn't have," she gasped.

"Open it," he urged her softly, forcing himself to keep his eyes on the road.

Mrs. Mason did as she was told and opened the box with a gleam of anticipation in her eyes. Inside, she found a silver necklace with a small sparkling pendant: three letters elegantly combined, composing her initials and adorned with little diamonds.

"Do you like it?" Perry asked nervously while Della sat motionless, her eyes fixed on the delicate DSM in front of her.

"I found you looking at your old signature necklace a few weeks ago," the attorney added while his wife ran her fingertips over the precious pendant. "And I missed seeing you in it."

Della nodded and inhaled deeply, then raised her teary eyes to his. "It's beautiful," she whispered, reaching out her trembling hand to fondle his.

Perry Mason smiled, relieved to find his wife so touched by his surprise and raised her hand to meet his lips, causing their girls to giggle out loud in the back.

Their pinkies entwined on the front seat, they continued their ride in silence until Perry stopped the car to drop their children off at school. He placed two swift kisses onto the girls' heads and watched his wife hopping out to smooth their clothes before she handed them their lunch boxes. Then she knelt down and smiled, gave them their pep talk for the day and pulled her daughters into a loving embrace. Right on cue, Amy took her sister's hand and waited for her mother to send them off with a hearty kiss. As they ran off, Della looked after her babies until they disappeared inside the school, then slid back into the car. Caressing her husband with a tender gaze, she inched towards him until she reached the warmth of his embrace, then rested her head on his shoulders and closed her eyes.

Perry restarted the car and, seconds later, moved his arm around her shoulders to pull her close. It wasn't the first morning that ended with her snuggled up in his arms. Since the birth of their twins a good eighteen months ago, he had gotten used to her falling asleep during the half hour trip into town. He didn't mind, but rather enjoyed the comfort of her body pressed against his. It gave him time to reflect on his case and relaxed him to feel her so at ease, her own mind resting after a long night without much sleep.

When he reached the parking garage a short while later, Perry Mason studied his wife's face, so beautiful in her repose, her laugh lines refined and smoothed. He loved to see their history reflected in those lines around her mouth and eyes, her beauty matured and womanly now. He could see the tears she had shed when they had been apart and the joy thereafter, remembered the exuberant smile gilding her lips on their wedding day. He saw the glow their daughters had sparked in her when she had expected them, recalled her blitheness and desire, his love for her growing deeper with each delivery.

"Time to wake up, Miss Street," he teased her forehead with tender lips and drowned in her sleepy eyes when she opened them.

"I think I'll skip court today," Mrs. Mason mumbled as she stretched like a kitten.

His eyes still resting on her to soak up the memories written all over her face, he smiled. "I'll ask Paul to drop you off at the office so you can rest some more."

"And miss all the excitement?" Della shook her head, placed a loving kiss onto his mouth and forced herself away from her husband's adoring arms. "Thank you, counselor, but no."

"Now that's my girl." Perry Mason chuckled and observed how his secretary emerged from the car, leaving his wife behind.

"Do you want me to check on Paul before court will be in session?" Della Mason asked in full business mode, straightening her wardrobe and grabbing their briefcases.

"Yes. And ask Gertie about any priority calls," the attorney added gruffly, already focusing on the case at hand.

"Will do." His girl Friday nodded. "Anything else?"

"Make an appointment for my wife to see our family doctor," Mason replied with a straight face and took her elbow to lead the way.

"I already did," his secretary returned, then held her husband's gaze as he was trying to read what was going on inside her pretty head.


	4. Chapter 4

**Author's note:** Please excuse the massive delay but thank you all for your encouraging reviews. :) Bless you.

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><p><strong>Chapter Four<strong>

Mrs. Mason brushed her fingers against her husband's in a tender caress, triggering a self-satisfied dimple smile when they reached the entrance hall of the courthouse as the famous lawyer and his loyal secretary. The hall was busy, flooded by reporters, legal personnel and witnesses. Rushing upstairs to see his client in the courtroom before the trial would start, Perry Mason left his wife to work her magic on the public phones to get the updates he so thoroughly relied on. Della stood for a moment and watched her husband merge with the crowd without fully disappearing. With his broad shoulders and genuine gait, she spotted him in the busiest streets, her eyes resting on him, always prepared for a last minute mind change of his.

When the attorney reached the top of the stairs, he stopped and opened his briefcase. Then he turned around, interrupted by an approaching Paul Drake, and nodded his head down to his wife – Della's sign to place her calls and take her time. Fighting her way to the phone booths on this busy Monday morning, the secretary found one of the booths unoccupied and quickened her steps to claim it just in time to stop a rookie reporter from being a step faster than her. Closing the folding door behind her with an apologetic smile, she set her briefcase on the little tray below the phone, her handbag on top, took off her earring, then lifted the receiver from the cradle and stuck it between her ear and shoulder. The number she dialed was so familiar to her, she barely looked at the dial plate but used her free hand to extract her notepad and pencil from her briefcase instead.

"Hello, Richard?" She said when her call went through, her voice friendly and warm. "This is Della." She nodded. "Yes. You asked me call first thing Monday morning. Are there any news?"

The secretary stood and listened.

"So what does that mean?" She interrupted him after a while. "The results are not conclusive?"

She paused.

"Oh, I see." Her voice suddenly dropped a level. "No, no. Perry knows."

Della inhaled to swallow a tear. "He's hoping for another baby." Then she chuckled sadly. "Yes, I know. I can't blame him either."

Della stood in silence for a moment, then whispered. "Yes, I'm still here."

Leaning her head against the pay phone, she listened.

"I'll see what I can do. Perry's pretty wrapped up at the moment." The secretary said quietly. "You know how it is." Retrieving a datebook from her handbag, she flipped through the busy pages until she reached the new week. "When did you have in mind?"

She waited. "Now that's rather short notice, don't you think?" Della remarked, then quipped. "All right, I'll run it by his secretary but I can't make any promises." She smiled.

"Thank you, Richard. And give my best to Laurie." Then she hung up and closed her eyes for a moment to take a deep breath.

"Are you done in there, Miss?" The rookie reporter interrupted her repose by knocking impatiently on the booth. Then he pointed to his watch to emphasize the urgency behind his request.

Della forced herself to stand upright again, then grabbed the receiver to dial another number, wordlessly asking the reporter to move away from the booth to give her some space.

"Gertie?" Della Mason asked tiredly when her call was picked up. "Yes. Good morning to you, too."

She smiled. "Any incoming calls I should know about?"

The secretary raised her right shoulder to keep the receiver stuck to her ear and freed her hand to scribble down the names and concerns of the callers her assistant was listing for her.

"Any other important news Perry should know?" Della nodded. "Yes, that's already been taken care of. I just spoke to Doctor Hamilton myself. Anything else?"

Della waited and ignored the renewed banging on the booth.

"All right, thank you. Oh, and Gertie. Please sort the mail on my desk for a change. There's an appointment Perry and I will have to rush to after court, it'll be faster if I take care of the chunk of correspondence all by myself today." She chuckled. "That's right. Call it an anniversary present."

The banging became more insistent and Della rolled her eyes.

"I'm sorry, Gertie. I better be quick now. Someone's pretty eager to get me off this phone. I see you later," she added calmly, hung up and neatly stuffed her notepad, datebook and pencil back into her bag.

Then she grabbed her belongings, turned around and found the folding door already opened for her.

"That must be one important phone call you're simply dying to place," she said in her best secretarial tone.

"What's it to you, Miss?" The young reporter snapped at her, clearly annoyed by her calm.

"It's Mrs.," Della Mason replied matter of fact, smiling at a familiar face that was slowly approaching her from the distance.

"Is that so? Shouldn't you be home to take care of your husband then?" The young man grumbled and closed the folding doors behind him with clumsy hands.

"That's what she's doing," Hamilton Burger replied and laughed as he saw Della Street Mason sighing inaudibly at the young man's uninformed remark. "He must be pretty new to his profession, not knowing who you are."

"Or utterly ignorant," Mrs. Mason stated lightheartedly, well aware of the press she and Perry were getting despite their family status and recently refueled by their newest case.

"Good to see you, Della," Burger pulled her into a friendly embrace.

"Good to see you, too, Mr. DA," the secretary gave back. "It's been a while since you last opposed Perry in court. He'll be thrilled to see you've changed your mind about this case."

"I'm not sure if thrilled is the word but I'm sure he'll register this last minute decision with great interest," the district attorney said, welcoming Della's natural sense of diplomacy.

Mrs. Mason smiled and accepted his offer to take her arm to lead them both upstairs.

"Don't underestimate Perry's appreciation for you," she said quietly. "There's no one he rather opposes in court."

"The feeling is mutual," Burger answered benevolently. "Although our reasons may differ."

"You'd be surprised," Della replied, her smile charming and warm although her mind threatened to busy itself with less pleasant thoughts.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

"Running a little late today, aren't we?" Paul Drake grinned when he greeted his lawyer friend with a friendly pat on the shoulder. "Any particular reason for the delay?"

Perry Mason's face was a mask of gruff professionalism as he nodded his head to signal his wife downstairs to go about her tasks at hand.

"What did you find, Paul?" The attorney ignored the private eye's curiosity and strolled towards the courtroom with a determined look on his face. "Anything may help us in our current position."

"You won't like what I just heard," the detective replied.

"Try me," Mason said gruffly.

"The DA himself is going to try the case," Paul answered.

"Did they find new evidence?" Perry Mason asked, his fingers unconsciously pulling at his earlobe.

"Andy found the murder weapon," the P.I. confirmed.

"When was that?" Perry barked.

"A good hour ago."

"What do we know about it?" For a split second, the attorney's mind returned to where he had been an hour ago, at the breakfast table with Della and their pack of girls, then snapped right back to the present.

"Not much. But it doesn't look good for your client, Perry."

"Margie stated it was self-defense," the lawyer whispered half to himself, trying to make sense of a gun that had disappeared only to surface now that the hearing was over and the trial began.

"But isn't that what broke your neck in the hearing? The missing weapon despite her pledge that she only tried to save herself and her unborn child?"

"What broke our neck was how the prosecution presented the case. They put Margie's reputation on trial to support their theory that she killed the father of her illegitimate child because he refused to marry her," Perry Mason grumbled. "And that kind of strategy didn't sit well with the judge and it won't help us with the jury either."

"Which makes me wonder why Burger himself would take the case now?" Drake asked. "Things are looking good for the prosecution."

"Hamilton Burger may have been pleased with the outcome of the preliminary hearing, but he's never been the type to throw mud. The way the press has covered the case is not exactly to his liking," the attorney guessed.

"So now you hope to improve your chances by having him oppose you," the detective concluded quietly.

"At least I know he'll try a murder case and not turn this into a precedent against unmarried mothers-to-be." Perry nodded, then stood in silence for a while, sifting through his thoughts.

"If you're so concerned with Margie Rodgers, are you also going to do something about the press throwing mud at you?" Paul finally dared to ask.

"I don't care what they say about me," the attorney answered flatly.

"But you care what they say about your wife," the detective said.

"Della doesn't care about the gossip either," Mason tried to shrug him off.

"Just because she's smiling, doesn't mean she's coping well," Paul Drake kept pressing his friend.

"I know my wife, Paul." Perry was drawing the line. "We've agreed not to talk about this case and I respect her wishes."

"When do you usually not talk about your cases?" The private eye couldn't resist. He knew the answer and saw it written all over Perry's face.

"This is different," the attorney grumbled. "This isn't about Laura."

"No, but it involves Eva Belter and Spicy Bits," Paul stated matter-of-fact. "And we both know how Della feels about that proxy of yours."

Perry glared at him, unwilling to discuss his marriage and angry with himself for finding a sparkle of truth in Paul Drake's honest words.

"Did your operatives find something in the background of the prosecution's key witness?" The attorney changed the subject, focusing his mind on his client again.

"Yes," the detective said sincerely. "Seems that Margie's sister had an eye on the unwilling groom herself."

"Sibling rivalry you mean?" Mason pushed the door open to enter the courtroom.

"Margie doesn't seem to have known," the private eye shook his head. "It all happened before she came to L.A. to follow into her sister's footsteps. Quite literally."

"Now that should help us find our footing in this case," Perry Mason exclaimed quietly, then smiled at Margie Rodgers who was already nervously awaiting him at the defense table.

Her face looked pale with a touch of gray. The shock about the loss of her lover and unborn child had left trenches of sorrow on her young face. Anxiety was reflected in her tired yes.

"Hello, Margie," Perry greeted her, his large hand cupping hers to reassure her everything would be all right. "How are you today?"

"Now that you're here I'll be fine," the young woman aspirated. Then she looked around, her eyes restless like those of a youngster who lost sight of her mother. "Is Della not coming today?"

"She'll be here any minute now," Perry Mason said to calm her down, impatient himself about his wife's abidance. After all, didn't Della know that unless it involved her or their children, he was not the soothing kind?

He was at ease the moment he felt her presence before even spotting her as she entered the room in the company of the DA.

"Right on cue as always," the attorney thought to himself and watched how his wife walked towards him. She looked charming but a little tense, her new necklace sparkling brighter than her eyes. Her elegance was steady, her pace a little slower than usual, her cheeks paler in the absence of her bubbly smile.

"Paul," Perry Mason whispered, gesturing his detective friend to lean in to him to keep their conversation quiet. "Take Della home when I tell you to, all right? No questions asked."

The private eye nodded and noticed the changed quality of Perry's voice. Given their surroundings, the lawyer's face was controlled and neutral, but his eyes, though happy to see his wife, were darkened by unknown sorrow.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

"There you are," Perry greeted his secretary with a boyish smile that lured her away from Hamilton Burger's arm. "Fraternizing with opposing counsel, are you?"

The attorney held out his hand to express the appreciation his wife had promised the DA he would show, and grumbled a genuine hello.

"I'm surprised to find you personally interested in this case, Hamilton. What changed your mind?"

"The way the press handled the preliminary hearing," Hamilton Burger admitted freely, confirming Mason's previous assumption.

"And will that decision affect prosecution strategy?" Perry Mason asked with a challenging quality in his voice.

"If you stick around, you'll know soon enough," Burger smiled confidently and nodded his head to Paul. "Or did your sources already brief you on our latest discoveries?"

Mason's face was neutral and his smile calm. "We'll both find out in a little while, won't we?"

"That we will," Burger returned amused and watched how the defense turned his attention back to the woman he had just entered the room with. "I take it you're interested in a by the book session today?"

"What makes you think that?" Perry answered in a low voice, aware of the district attorney's personal tone.

"I just thought you may have some plans you'd like the court to take into consideration today," the DA offered good-natured. "I could try and put in a good word for you with the judge."

"I'm in pretty good standing with the judge myself. But thank you, Hamilton," Perry Mason replied quietly.

"My offer remains standing," the district attorney gave back. "After all, this case is not exactly supporting the mood you may wish to get into today."

Perry raised his hand to gesture his thanks to the DA, then approached the defense table where Della was engaged in a calming conversation with their client Margie Rodgers. The young woman sat with stiff shoulders, anxiety still written all over her face although her demeanor had improved since Della's arrival and warm hello.

Hamilton Burger was right. The case was unpleasant, especially on his anniversary. But after a disastrous preliminary hearing, Perry was determined to change the odds and clear Margie's name. The imperfect start into his life with Della had motivated him to take on this case in the first place, and now he would do his best to win it.

"How is she holding up?" Perry Mason asked as he drew his secretary into a private corner of the busy courtroom to get a short overview of the calls Gertie had received this morning.

"I'm worried about her, Perry," Della admitted. "She barely made it through the hearing and given her present condition, I'm not sure she'll do well in front of the jury."

The attorney nodded. "I agree. But we'll have to try."

"Right," Della agreed in a broken whisper, then added. "She's mourning her child, Perry."

"I know," Perry placed his hands on his wife's, his broad shoulders shielding her from possible prying eyes. "How are you coping with all of this, baby?"

Della lowered her head, then looked up again and sought her husband's raging eyes. His face was calm and gruff, but she could see his mind going over the case, over and over again. And then there was the darkness of his eyes, the kind of shadow she only saw when he was deeply worried about their daughters or when he avoided the topic of his time without her before they'd finally gotten married.

"Would you be disappointed if I wasn't carrying another child?" The secretary suddenly whispered, her voice brittle and hoarse.

"Did you make an appointment with Richard?" The attorney kept his voice hushed, his hand now fondling hers.

"He took some blood from me last week," Della said under her breath. "And now he wants to see us both."

"When?" He whispered into her ear as he drew her close.

"Today," Della whispered and placed one of her hands on her husband's heaving chest.

Perry kept holding her close to him, soaking up the strength she so easily provided for him. "All right."

"I'm scared, honey," his wife confessed.

"Don't be until we've heard the facts," the attorney argued. "Maybe we are just going to have another baby."

"You really want that, don't you?" Della whispered onto his chest. "Because you're holding out for a boy?"

"In all honesty?" He brushed his lips over the top of her curly head and smiled broadly. "There's nothing I want more than another girl."


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Paul Drake was sitting on a bench in the first row right behind the defense table, his green eyes alert, his facial expression neutral. His broad shoulders and tall form stuck out from the incoming visitors, relatives of the victim and the press. None of them paid attention to the couple standing in the far end corner of the courtroom, obviously engaged in a private conversation, their body language so intimate, Paul, as their only apparent witness, averted his eyes to stop himself from trying to overhear what was going on.

He had learned to give the Masons their space, although it sometimes hurt to see them so entangled and at ease with each other, so wrapped up in their little world. It had been hard for him to find out about their feelings years ago: Della's slim body completely covered by Perry's, his left arm flung around her tiny waist, his right arm steadying them against the door that led to her office, pressing her back against the wood, one of her hands still on the knob, the other trapped on Perry's chest, her eyes closed while they had kissed each other with abandon. Kissed so long that Paul himself had felt the urge to draw in a deep breath when they had broken apart only to bury themselves in a close embrace, their voices whispering to each other. Perry's mouth had nuzzled Della's neck and triggered a sound so low, Paul had wondered where her svelte form could possibly produce so much depth. He had been rooted to the spot, unable to move while his eyes, for the first time, had given them the privacy they craved. It had taken him a minute to recover from their secret and leave on silent feet, to sort his feelings about the unexpected scene. He had been happy for them in an instant, but also melancholy for himself. He had sensed that things would change, for them, at the office, and thus for him.

The detective risked another look at the befriended couple now standing in the courtroom, slowly breaking apart to take their seats. Like so often when he felt unwatched, Perry Mason stopped his wife from slipping away from him too fast and caressed her sculptured cheeks with one of his hands. Paul smiled at the familiar gesture, topped by a kiss that shamed most husbands in the room. Margie Rodgers gasped, hushed her voice and turned her head to meet Paul Drake's understanding eyes. The young woman's face had blushed at the display of conjugal affection from her lawyer and his associate, her eyes teary from memories she wished she had.

"It's their anniversary," the private eye leaned in to the defendant, doing his best to address her ears alone.

"Oh," Margie smiled and seemed embarrassed for a moment. "I didn't know."

"They don't like to make a fuss," Paul returned her smile to make her comfortable again, bending the truth a little to not dwell on the subject.

"My case affects them more than they let on, doesn't it?" Miss Rodgers fragile voice asked under her breath.

The private detective rested his eyes on his kissing friends and resisted a nod. "Your case is like any other case Perry has tried, full of surprises."

"Only that my case strikes awfully close to home, doesn't it?" Margie leaned in a little closer and shifted uncomfortably in her seat. She had no intention of allowing anyone else to listen in.

"I don't see how," Paul replied quietly. "The couple I'm looking at is happily married with four children. How does that compare to your story?"

"Not all stories end the same although they may have started out on similar grounds," Margie Rodgers tried to sound hopeful.

"Didn't Perry tell you not to read those darn tabloids?" Paul Drake hushed his annoyance. It was the likes of Eva Belter he was mad at, not the young woman client sitting in front of him.

"He did," Margie admitted and lowered her head.

"Then don't pay attention to what they say and listen to your lawyer, honey," the detective reached out his hand to soothe her across the little barrier that separated them. "Perry, Della and I are going to do our best to get you acquitted and nothing else should matter to you right now."

Margie Rodgers nodded her head and turned around to have a look at her attorney again. Perry Mason stood tall and impressive, his blue eyes fixed on his wife's pair of brown as they disentangled from their lingering kiss.

"I just wish I wouldn't interfere with their anniversary," the defendant added quietly as Paul gently squeezed her shoulders.

"That's not what's bothering them, honey," Paul mumbled half to himself, then locked his eyes with Della's while she shed Mrs. Mason and revived Miss Street.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

"Are you ready?" The secretary addressed her husband's client in a tender voice, her eyes dancing in response to Perry's hand still holding on to her on the small of her back yet showing concern over the melancholy expression on Margie's face.

"I'll be fine," the young defendant answered in a trembling voice.

Della shot Paul an inquiring gaze while she handed Perry the notes he was looking for in her organized pile of material.

"Don't let the jury intimidate you, Margie," the secretary reminded the young woman sitting behind the defense table whose face went ashen as the twelve appointed jurymen took their seats in their booth.

"We've been over this, remember? The better your composure, the better an impression you will make on them."

Margie nodded, but Della knew it was easy for her to say, she wasn't the one who would be sentenced, although judged they probably were both. By the jury, the attending audience and a shady press – all utterly ill-informed but opinionated nonetheless. She had promised Perry not to worry, not to pay attention to the gossip columns and their lies. It irked her however, despite her husband's plea to not allow that printed garbage to enter their lives. She wasn't sure how well their oldest daughter was coping with the amount of published rejection based on her illegitimate birth. Amy was so very much like her father, bottling up her feelings without being able to hide them from her family, brooding over the issue until she found a solution to make the problem go away. But this wasn't something her big girl could influence, nor something she had provoked. Her struggle was based on her parents' long forgotten mistakes, as Aunt Mae had so aptly put it, and it broke Della's heart to know her beloved daughter was now suffering for those.

"All rise," the bailiff announced as Judge Anderson entered the room from his chambers.

Brushing his hands against Della's in a tender caress, Perry Mason strode to his seat and exchanged a friendly nod with the DA.

"Are you ready for your opening statement, Mr. Burger?" The judge asked matter-of-fact.

"I am, Your Honor," Hamilton Burger replied, then turned his head to look at the defense attorney.

"Is the defense ready as well?" Judge Anderson addressed Perry Mason.

"Yes, Your Honor," Perry answered calmly and sat as the judge gestured the district attorney to start the proceedings.

Returning the notes Della had given him moments before, Perry's attention was divided between the DA, the jury's reaction and his nervous client. He didn't notice the sharp intake of breath coming from his wife, didn't see the color completely vanishing from her face as Hamilton Burger gave his speech.

"Mrs. Mason?" It was Margie's voice that alerted the attorney of his wife's condition. "Are you all right?"

Lifting his eyes from her shorthand notes, Perry Mason turned his head and reached his hand across the table to touch Della's feeble fingers.

"Darling, what's going on?" He whispered, but Della shook her head and faked a smile. She was trying to divert his attention back to Burger's statement and the trial. The way she held on to his hand however told him that she was everything but fine, so he pressed her to be honest with him simply by squeezing her hand.

"Paul is going to take you home now, Della," her husband insisted quietly before she could protest his concern. "I want you to lie down until I pick you up to see Richard, all right?"

The secretary tried to raise her voice but only managed to release a breathy yes.

"Can you get up?" Perry asked calmly, not trying to draw more attention to them than necessary.

Della nodded, unsure about her answer but strong-willed enough to work through the sudden wave of dizziness and pain.

"Paul," the attorney turned around to find his friend already prepared to go. "Take her straight home," his voice pleaded while his eyes were alarmed.

"Will do," the detective nodded and watched how Della propped herself up, grabbed her briefcase, overcoat and purse, then smiled at Margie before she slowly made her way around the defense table to accept a note from Perry to cover up her sudden departure. Squeezing her hand again before he surrendered her into Paul's temporary care, the lawyer soaked up everything she was unable to say from her eyes, then forced himself to let her go without interrupting the trial.

"What does it say?" Paul asked as he grabbed her elbow, helping her to make a graceful exit and disguising her discomfort.

"That he loves me," Della croaked as soon as the courtroom doors closed behind them.

"You haven't even looked at the note yet," the detective teased her, then sat right next to her as she paused on a nearby bench.

"But I know my husband," Mrs. Mason said under her breath as the world started spinning and her head was throbbing, the back of her neck, her temples. So she opened her purse and sank her hands inside to look for something that seemed to hide itself from her in her growing silence.

"Can I help?" the private eye asked gently, noticing how her slowed down reaction time bothered the always so efficient secretary.

"I need sugar," Della managed to say as she blinked her eyes to fight the black dots that blurred her vision.

"All right," Paul said and dove his hands into the depth of her strangely disorganized handbag.

The minute it took him to reveal a bag of hard candy, probably left-overs from her precious pack of girls, Della fought the pins and needles that prickled the roots of her hair and the ringing of her ears.

"Here we go, Beautiful," the P.I. exclaimed and proudly presented his findings, unwrapping it for immediate consumption.

Shoving the candy into her mouth with trembling hands, Della Mason nodded and welcomed Paul's reassuring embrace as he pulled her close like the brother he was to her these days.

"I want you to take me to the office," the secretary said calmly after a while, her voice steadier again but hoarse.

"I know what Perry said," she stopped him from arguing with her before he could even say a word. "But I don't want to alert Aunt Mae or the girls."

"Perry asked you to rest, and he's right," Paul Drake gave back tenderly. "You've given us quite a scare in there, Del."

"There's a couch in Perry's office, I'll rest there," Della replied. "But I don't want Amy or Phoebe to see me wobbly and pale like this when they come home from school."

Paul nodded and understood. "Okay, we'll do it your way, but now show me that note," he said an waited for Della to reach into her pocket to reveal the piece of paper her husband had handed her just minutes ago.

"And, what does it say?" Mrs. Mason asked with a weak smile.

"It says, 'Paul, tell Della I love her'", the detective answered dumbfounded but delighted to feel her chuckling by his side.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

Della welcomed the silence that enveloped her as Paul maneuvered his car out of the parking lot and into the busy streets of downtown Los Angeles. She closed her eyes and enjoyed the wind blowing into her face through the open window, tousling up the curls that weren't covered by the silky shawl she had loosely tied around her aching head. She embraced the quiet melodies the radio was playing and the memories that came with them, of Perry sitting next to her on Aunt Mae's porch six years ago, their two-year-old daughter cradled in his arms while his eyes were caressing her all over. Of the timid hunger of his kiss with Amy in his lap and her mouth nuzzling at him to remind her lips of his flavoring and the soft timbre of his voice when he had proposed.

"Is the radio bothering you Beautiful?" Paul invaded her memories and let her blush.

"Not at all," Della answered bashfully, aware of Paul's complaisant smirk.

"Let me know when it does," the private eye said, happy to see some color returning to the secretary's face for unbeknown reasons.

When they arrived at the Brent building a good ten minutes later, Paul parked the car in his reserved spot in the garage and killed the radio to rip Della out of her musings. Her headache almost gone now, she undid the bow that had secured the shawl around her curls and welcomed Paul's offer to help her up. Still a little shaky on her feet, she was miffed at the slowness of her steps as she tried to walk on her own and gladly accepted Paul's arm to steady her. When they finally reached the elevator, he instinctively shielded her from prying eyes and started a conversation to cover the whispers of the group women who shared their lift, each equipped with the latest issue of Spicy Bits.

"You don't have to do this," Della said under her breath, a polite smile painted on her lips when the women excused themselves on the first floor.

"Do what?" The detective shot her an innocent look as the doors closed and left them alone for the remainder of their ride.

"Protect me from public opinion," Mrs. Mason answered quietly.

"I wish Perry would," Paul didn't resist.

"He's doing his best to win his case," the lawyer's wife replied faithfully. "It was a terrible blow for him when he didn't prevail in the preliminary hearing."

"Which doesn't excuse how he's handling the press."

"Perry doesn't deal with them, you know that," Della kept defending her husband.

"He ignores them or files a lawsuit, I know," the P.I. grumbled. "So why doesn't he?"

"There's nothing we can do to stop the tabloids from printing the truth," Della Mason argued.

"The truth according to whom?" He didn't let it go.

"Paul, I know you don't like how the papers have presented me and neither do I, but I am Perry's secretary and I had our first child before we were married."

"You've been married for six years for crying out loud, the past shouldn't matter."

"But it does," Della smiled ruefully at him. "Perry and I knew this was bound to happen again eventually. The first time didn't hurt so much because Amy was still so small, but now..." She swallowed hard.

"It shouldn't matter when Amy was born and if you'd taken your vows. She's Perry's and yours as much as the rest of your precious girls," Paul exclaimed.

"And to us it doesn't matter. But there's a difference between us and the public. They only know that Perry was my boss when I got pregnant and that I married him when our firstborn was already two years old. They don't care why I left although he proposed marriage to me and why we couldn't stay apart. And it's none of their business."

"Maybe you should make it their business," Paul offered the unthinkable. "Maybe you should actually use your ties to Spicy Bits and tell the real story behind this press-made scandal. After all, Eva Belter's gutter paper was the first one to put an emphasis on how deeply you are in love with your husband."

"It was also the first paper that attacked me for being a working mother and created a story that Perry was forced to take me on as his associate because I was unable to find employment elsewhere due to my disrepute," Della shook her head. "No, Paul, really."

"That was six years ago, Beautiful. Today, she's one of the few who's not zeroing in on Amy as a substitute in this crusade against 'The Mason act of impropriety'."

"Because she knows Perry would not forgive her if she only mentioned Amy's name," the secretary stated matter-of-fact.

"So you do think Perry could have more pull in the matter."

"I didn't say that," Mrs. Mason defended herself.

"No, but it irks you that he's not managed to shut down that paper since he's taken on Eva Belter's business affairs four years ago. And you're concerned about your children and the influence public opinion has on them. After all, school is a collecting pond for parental gossip, something neither Amy nor Phoebe can escape."

"I should tell Aunt Mae to stop updating you on our family issues," Della noted.

"Mae never said a word, Beautiful, she's as close-lipped about your marital affairs as Perry. I'm just around enough to notice you've been struggling with your offspring lately. And since I'm not as deeply buried in the Rodgers case as your husband, I can see how hard you're trying to solve this 'issue' without bothering him."

Della looked at the private eye with an expression that tore at his heart. She inhaled as if to speak, then stopped again and waited for the right explanation to pop up in her head. Then she took another breath and lowered her head, her lips grimacing a melancholy smile.

"Perry is hoping I'm expecting again," she started meekly.

"I'm not surprised," Paul nodded. "After the kiss he gave you back in court."

Della blushed despite the teasing quality of his voice.

"But you don't seem to be so thrilled about his idea," the detective stated softly.

Della Mason held his gaze. She didn't know what to say to him without giving too much away. After all, she agreed with Perry's policy of keeping their personal lives private, even from their closest friends.

It was the opening elevator door that saved her from admitting what she was really worried about, that business had decreased since her husband had taken on Margie's case. That for the first time since they had taken their vows clients were taking their business elsewhere without leaving a doubt about their reasons. That her twins hadn't let her sleep in ten days while her husband was too exhausted from casework to get up and help. That Aunt Mae was not getting any younger and was overwhelmed at times looking after their kids while Amy seemed to grow more quiet and clingy every day. That she herself craved her husband's touch although she had felt bloated and achy for weeks before she had finally seen Richard Hamilton to take a blood test he now urgently wished to discuss.

"I just don't like to get excited about theories," Della merely said as they exited the lift and was relieved to have a friend in Paul who was close enough to know when not to push her for a more definite answer. Instead, he put his arm around her shoulder and walked her down the corridor to the rear entrance of Perry Mason's office.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

Gertrude Lade was sorting the morning mail on Mrs. Mason's desk when she heard the distinct sound of a key turning in the lock to open the back door to the attorney's office. She checked her watch and got up to check who the early visitor may be. After all, to her knowledge, Perry Mason and his wife were engaged in court.

"Hang up and lay off the chocolates, Gertie, the boss is in," Paul Drake's voice sounded from the door and met the assistant's inquiring gaze as she poked her head into the office.

"What are you doing here so early?" Gertrude Lade chirped and rushed into the room to relieve Della Mason of her coat and briefcase. "Is everything all right?"

"Everything's fine, Gertie. Don't worry," Della appreciated her assistant's concern. "Perry just felt he'd do better without me in court today."

"Is there anything I can do?" The young woman asked sweetly.

"Did you go through the mail?" The secretary asked as she strode past her into her office.

"I was just about to finish when you came in," Gertrude Lade replied and smiled as Della marveled at the rich bouquet of roses gracing her desk.

"Aren't they beautiful?" She asked after a beat and wondered why her boss was so unusually quiet.

"They are," Mrs. Mason finally croaked and bit down her dizziness while Paul took Gertie's arm to give her some space.

"Paul," Gertie protested as he dragged her away. "I haven't briefed Della on the mail yet."

"She's smart, she'll figure it out. Now do me a favor," he whispered so the secretary wouldn't hear. "Show me your latest issue of Spicy Bits. I want to know what they're up to."

When the door to the outer office closed behind them, Della sank onto her desk and smelled the roses that almost looked too perfect to be real. Six red ones for their years together, four white ones for their daughters, two yellow ones for their years apart and two more with a red tip for the time they had fallen in love.

"Oh, Perry," Della smiled as she remembered her husband's annual explanation of the symbolic colors of her favorite flowers.

Settling in her chair, she sighed and turned to the mail awaiting her attention. She sifted through the deadwood within seconds and piled the congratulations next to her bouquet. Then she focused on the business letters and opened a correspondence referring to a conversation she knew Perry had had with Eva Belter on the phone a few days ago.

_ Dear Perry,_

_ I have met your request of rectification regarding your family and have arranged for an apology to be published in our next issue. _

_ I deeply regret the discord this matter has created between us and sincerely hope this gesture will convince you to reconsider your decision regarding your proxy. _

_ Yours truly,_

_ Eva_

Della gasped and glared at the lines on her desk as Paul stormed back into her office.

"You'll never believe it, Beautiful," the detective exclaimed, waving Gertrude Lade's tabloid edition in his hands.

"I think I may," the secretary replied quietly, her eyes still fixed on the letter addressed to Perry but so clearly meant for her eyes to see.

"The son of a gun actually made her print an apology," Paul Drake shook his head, still disbelieving. "Is there anything that husband of yours cannot swing?"

Raising her head, she looked at the flowers on her desk and brushed her fingers over the jeweled initials embellishing her neck.

"I don't know, Paul," she merely said, her reaction numbed by an explosion of emotions going off inside her throbbing head, causing her extremities to go limp.

It took mere seconds for her to feel too tired to keep her eyes open and to slowly drop her head onto her desk.

"Can I get you anything?" Gertrude Lade's voice sounded sweetly in her ears a short while later. Della was resting on the couch in Perry's office but couldn't remember how she had gotten there.

"What am I doing here lying down?" She asked under her breath, then realized Paul was holding her feet in his lap to help her circulation to kick back in.

"You fainted," Paul answered matter-of-fact.

The secretary moved, then held her head as it started to pound again, protesting her attempts to sit up.

"I'll get you a glass of water," Gertie offered thoughtfully and rushed off.

"Thank you," Della mumbled and failed to avoid Paul's worried gaze.

"Doc Hamilton will be here any minute now," the P.I. said, then smiled at her subduedly. "He said you're the only patient he ever had who knows how to postpone swooning until she's back at the office."

"Resilience runs in the family," Della Mason quipped.

"Obstinacy, too," the detective answered and helped her to regain her composure by rubbing her calves and shins.

"I should have taken you home," Paul said after a while.

"I asked you not to," the secretary replied. "He'll understand."

"I'm not worried about Perry right now," the private eye shook his head. "I'm worried about you."

"There you go," Gertie chirped as she rushed back in with a glass of fresh water.

Accepting the water with shaky hands, Della smiled at her assistant and propped up her head to take a sip.

"Would you get me an aspirin, too, please?" She asked meekly.

"In a jiffy," Gertrude Lade nodded and disappeared in the Masons' private bathroom.

"She's a doll." Della took another sip of water. "You should take her out sometime."

"There's no way you're going to attract attention away from you now, Beautiful." Paul smirked. "But nice try."

"I'm just saying that I know you like her," the secretary added.

"And I'm just saying that you're currently the center of our concern," the detective returned firmly. "So no match-making from the bedside."

"Only if you promise not to alarm Perry while he's still in session," Mrs. Mason insisted.

"You know he asked me to report back to him," Paul answered apologetically. "I cannot keep your condition from him, Della. I'm sorry."

"I'm not asking you to," she reassured him quietly. "I just don't want him to get distracted when he is in court."

"Some day your loyalty will get the better of you, Beautiful," Paul Drake sighed. "I hope you know that."

"But not today," Della smiled. "Today, I have other plans."


	11. Chapter 11

**Chapter Eleven**

Perry Mason doodled on his wife's notepad as he listened to Lieutenant Anderson's testimony. He had always found that releasing his mind clutters on paper was a helpful element in preparing for his cross-examination. He knew Della loved to look at his scribbling after adjournment, never tiring of deciphering his train of thought. He couldn't count the cases she had solved for him only by looking at his doodled puzzles, by listening to his questions, and couldn't describe how much he loved to find her talent running in Amy while Phoebe so clearly tried to follow into his footsteps.

Thinking of his oldest stopped his pencil and he raised his eyes to look at Andy on the witness stand. He couldn't afford to focus on Amy now. Not while he was on this case – a case that had brought tears and confusion into his daughter's life. He knew Della was worried out of her wits about their oldest and he didn't like when Della was worried, when she turned into that quiet lioness of a woman who did everything to protect her pack without caring about her own strength.

He hadn't told her about his conversation with Eva Belter to protect her feelings and suddenly wished he had. He knew Della would have scolded him for trying to reason with the only client she openly disapproved of, but he had been counting on his persuasiveness with the woman behind Spicy Bits and her influence on gossip circulation. He had learned about the domino effect over the years, how easily gossip could shift from good to bad simply by a change of tone and focus on the spark of truth in a rumored tale, swaying public opinion on defendants, candidates and celebrities. Now he hoped for a shift in his family's favor, without a lawsuit threat and his direct involvement. He knew Della wished for it all to just go away, but she also blamed herself for inflicting the current pain on their first-born although it was him who should be blamed for taking on a case she had warned him smelled like trouble for themselves. But despite her better judgment, his wife wasn't the type to point her finger at him, no matter how wrong he was, how foolish or obsessed. She had long given up on convincing him to not help a damsel in distress, even when a lot of his clients caused her headaches these days. If he was honest, he had always wondered what it would take to break her calm and support. But then, Della wasn't the one to hold a grudge and always forgave him, no matter how far he pushed her to the brink for a case. She had also taken him back without reproach after their two year separation and had given birth to their beautiful children while putting his needs first, his practice a top priority even in their marriage like back in the days when they had only been Perry Mason, attorney-at-law, and Della Street, his confidential secretary.

"What does that mean for us now that they have found the gun?" Margie Rodgers interrupted him and placed her hand on his arm as if, like Della, to draw strength from him.

"I don't know yet, Margie." Perry pulled at his earlobe and gave his client a gruff smile as he dove back into doodling to sift through the words of the witness still on the stand.

And he really didn't. This was the kind of case he needed Della for, his quiet bystander in the courtroom. He missed having her there at the table with him, needed her to bring order into the chaos of his raging mind.

"Are you ready for your cross-examination, counselor?" The judge cut into his thoughts.

"No questions," Perry Mason replied, barely looking up from his wife's notepad but putting his hand on Margie Rodger's to kill her returning nervousness beside him.

"I didn't do it," Margie whispered, causing Perry to nod his head in her direction.

"Don't let these testimonies get to you, Margie," he said gruffly, wishing Della was here to calm her down. "We've been through this before."

The young woman nodded back, her face pale and far from dignified.

"Don't let the jury see your panic," the attorney lectured her. "Remember what Della told you."

Margie nodded again but knew she wasn't able to hold up as well as Mrs. Mason through all the media buzz and courtroom attention, recent weeks had shown her that.

"Smile through the evidence and insinuations," Perry heard himself repeating his wife's demure words. "We'll tell your side of the story when the prosecution rests."

That wasn't what his wife had told Margie Rodgers and they both knew it. Della had told their client to trust him, to put her faith in him no matter what, to know he would do everything to get her acquitted regardless of time and cost.

He should've noticed the little tremble in his wife's voice when she had prepped their client for the trial, when she had prepared her to face the courtroom again after a draining preliminary hearing. He should've known she wasn't all right when the smile she had tried to create on Margie's lips was missing on her own, when her confidence in his abilities did not exceed to herself and their family, the people he should be protecting first.

"_I love you,_" Perry suddenly remembered the last time her trust in him had crumbled. "_I love you so much but I have to go. I cannot be your secretary and have our baby. This is not how it works and you know it. So please don't ask me to stay until everybody sees the reason for my leaving. For our child's sake, please, don't ask me to make it any harder on us than it already is._"

The emptiness in his life had been instant, he remembered it all too well. Her two weeks notice, her determination to do what was best for them all and that iron will she only showed when she felt pushed in a direction she didn't want to go. He had asked her to marry him but not insisted when she hadn't trusted his motives and had declined his offer to make her respectable. Every day of their separation he had regretted letting her go while she had started their family without him. Every day since their reunion she had assured him it was okay. But with every testimony against Margie Rodgers, every piece of evidence that made her look guilty, he felt reminded of what was at stake for himself.

If only Paul would show up to reassure him that Della was sound, safe and tucked in bed at home. If only today wasn't their anniversary.

Perry Mason ground his teeth. He knew very well that his wife had probably insisted on lying down at the office and had talked Paul into ignoring his orders to take her straight home. He knew she wouldn't rest unless she was feeling gravely ill, but his gut feeling told him that this was the case. Della rarely admitted that she was afraid of anything, but today she had and now he was concerned about her health and their afternoon appointment with Richard Hamilton. If only she was pregnant again, the attorney prayed to himself, still torn about his feelings about having another baby with his wife. Four girls, after all, were quite a handful, especially their inquisitive and lively bunch of curly heads. At the same time however, there was nothing he loved more than the feeling of her growing belly right next to him in bed on a quiet Sunday morning, hours before they got ready for a lengthy breakfast and church with their bubbly offspring. Those memories were only rivaled by their first anniversary, when a case had busted their plans of a quiet vacation up in Bear Valley and Della had helped him sift through her notes and his questions in his study at home. Their three-year-old had slept on the couch, her head comfortably nestled in Della's lap while he had enjoyed the view of his wife breastfeeding their newborn daughter Phoebe. It had been the peace and quiet that had tripled the love for his wife when she had looked up to meet his gaze with tired eyes but a happy and brilliant smile. It was that kind of moment he now wished to recreate, the kind of happiness he wished he could've given her on their sixth anniversary without juggling their offspring and the first day of Margie's trial. But then he knew she wouldn't want to have it any other way. They had tried to make it work with her staying at home to raise the kids. They hadn't lasted more than a month, the wound of her two year absence still running too deep in his heart to make it through the day without her being with him for the majority of it.


	12. Chapter 12

**Chapter Twelve**

Della lay motionless on the couch in her husband's office. Her eyes were closed, her breathing was steady, her arm was flung over her forehead, mimicking her husband's body language when his mind was too preoccupied to allow him to rest.

"I should've told you to come see me right away." Richard Hamilton's voice reached her ears in a friendly whisper, his footsteps muffled on the carpeted floor.

"I told you Perry's pretty wrapped up in his current case," Mrs. Mason replied without opening her eyes.

"I didn't ask to see Perry, I asked to see you," the doctor reminded her quietly and sat down on the couch to feel her pulse on her wrist. "How are you, busy bee?"

"Better now that I'm lying down," Della said honestly and gave him a faint smile.

"You look pale." Richard remarked and gently pushed her arm from her forehead to feel her temperature.

"I'm not running a fever," Della Mason answered a question he hadn't asked.

"No," the doctor confirmed. "Quite the contrary I'd say."

He turned around and sought eye contact with Paul Drake who was quietly leaning in the door frame. "Would you ask Miss Lade for a thermometer, please?"

The detective nodded, unable to hide the depth of his concern for his sisterly friend.

"There you go," Gertie chirped worriedly only seconds later. "If there's anything else you need, just holler," she added, then gently shoved the P.I. out of her boss' office to give Della some privacy with her family doctor.

"Thanks, Gertie." Richard Hamilton looked after his patient's assistant, then shook the thermometer and waited for Della to finally open her eyes.

"Open your mouth," he ordered tenderly, well aware of Mrs. Mason's dislike for commands.

"I can save you the trouble," the secretary answered, her eyes glassy and unfocused. "It was 94.1 this morning and 95.3 last night."

Richard Hamilton glared at her and waited until she finally opened her mouth. "Show me your tongue," he said and chuckled when she stuck out her tongue at him with playful intent. "Are you cold?" He asked and placed the thermometer into her mouth.

Della shook her head

"Dizzy?"

"Apparently," Mrs. Mason mumbled meekly, referring to her nap on the couch.

"The tests showed you have an infection, Della. And your Lipase level is elevated," he said professionally. "Are you in pain?"

The secretary looked at him, then lowered her head. "I'm fine."

"You are not," Richard answered matter-of-fact and pulled the thermometer out of his patient's mouth. "95 degrees is not fine."

"Last week I had 102, now it's down again. That kind of fluctuation runs in the family. Amy gets quite a kick out of reminding me of that."

"An elevated Lipase level suggests you inherited your parents' gastrointestinal issues." Doctor Hamilton tried to keep her focused. "If you are in pain I need to know."

"I am," Della offered quietly. "Sometimes. It goes away when I watch what I eat."

"Which means what?" The doctor raised his eyebrows, alerted by her evasiveness. "What did you eat this morning?"

"Toast," Mrs. Mason answered scantily.

"Toast and?" Richard insisted.

"A bite of dry toast and herbal tea," the secretary finally revealed. "I wasn't particularly hungry."

"How long has that been going on?" Richard Hamilton interrogated her now.

"For about a month or two now, I guess. Phoebe had the stomach flu and I caught it, too. Then it was Amy's turn and Aunt Mae's. Luckily, Perry and the twins didn't catch it also."

"That was three months ago, Della." The doctor sounded concerned.

"It's not that bad really. I just feel queasy once in a while and I have those headaches. It always gets better when I avoid fat and drink lots of fluids. I was fine until Liz and Kate started growing teeth a little over a week ago now."

"How much did you sleep?"

"Two hours, sometimes three a night. Half an hour in the car on our way to the office, sometimes a nap after lunch on Perry's couch." Della shrugged. "It's quite convenient I insisted on getting one I suppose."

"How's the situation affecting your husband?" Richard asked carefully.

"I try to keep the kids off his back when he's working a case. He's doing fine."

"Even if that means you're on your last legs."

"We're running a law practice," the secretary said in a steadfast voice. "We don't keep regular office hours from nice to five. We never have."

"That's exactly why I wanted to talk to you both," Doctor Hamilton shook his head. "On your schedule, you cannot function on dry toast and herbal tea alone. Your iron level is low for a reason, your Lipase level high. You..."

"I'll be fine," the secretary tried to make her case.

"No, busy bee, you won't. Not for long. Or do you think this dizzy spell today is a sign that you're coping well?" Richard shook his head and took her hand in his.

"Della, you've been Laurie's friend for so many years now and you know how I felt about the situation you put yourself in when you got pregnant with your first child. But I've always respected your wish to do it your way and we've welcomed Perry to our our family like one of our own. But this is where it ends, Della. I'm your doctor now and not your friend. Stop wearing yourself out and reduce the workload, then let your husband help you a little. You cannot be Della Street and Mrs. Perry Mason. It is too much. I know my wife has told you many times and you didn't want to hear it. But I'm taking her side now, dear. Under temperature, dizzy spells and a pancreas that's acting up. I won't watch you ruining your health over trying to give more than you have. It's high time you cut back a little, busy bee. And we'll start by running more tests in the hospital today to make sure your results are only a warning shot and your system isn't already turning against you."

"Today is our anniversary, Richard. I don't intend to spend it with a needle in my arm," Della protested.

"You can come with me now or you can wait until you swoon again," Doctor Hamilton shrugged. "At 95 degrees with practically no food in your stomach, a low iron level and a sensitive digestive system I wouldn't count on lasting more than an hour or two. Even your stamina has its limits, Della. Just because you can hold it together for a while, doesn't mean you're invincible."

"Perry can't afford to get distracted with me in the hospital. He scares so easily about these things," Mrs. Mason tried to reason with her friend.

"It's about time you allowed him to take care of you for a change. I can only imagine how this trial has been affecting your lives, but this is where your altruism ends, busy bee. If you're reluctant to do it, I'll be the one to put your needs first. Doctor's orders and no objection from you, young lady. We'll get your coat and purse now and tell Paul to brief your husband about your whereabouts and then we'll check you in at St. Mary's. No case, no gossip, no phone calls. If you behave, I might be nice and allow your girls to come see you. But I'd rather you sleep for the rest of the day."


	13. Chapter 13

**Chapter Thirteen**

"Why don't you sit down," Gertrude Lade asked the P.I. from behind the desk in Mrs. Mason's office where she was sifting through the mail. "You are making me nervous."

Paul looked at her and stopped his pacing, then dropped down in the chair next to where Gertie was keeping herself busy.

"Did Della teach you that?" He quipped. "To work through a crisis?"

"This isn't a crisis," Gertie answered quietly.

"Then what are you calling it?" The private eye asked and nodded his head towards the door to Perry's office. "A house call from Rick Hamilton while Perry's still in court? Come on Gertie, don't tell me you are not concerned."

"I am," the blonde woman gave back with a reluctant sigh. "I just don't think that worrying helps Della in any way. Going through the morning mail to get her chores out of the way does."

Paul glared at her and put his hand on hers in a friendly caress. "You're a doll." He smiled.

"So you say to all of your women," Gertie replied somberly.

"I really don't." The detective searched her eyes. "Not anymore."

"Paul?" Della's voice sounded determined but weak from the inside of her husband's office.

"Right here, Beautiful," he shouted back, squeezed Gertie's hand and then got up.

"What's cooking?" He asked as he walked through the door Doctor Hamilton was holding open for him. "What can I do?"

"Would you get a few things for me from home and find a way not to scare my husband when you get back to him?" Della asked with a hint of defeat in her silky voice. "Richard is going to take me to the hospital."

"What do you want me to say?" The detective responded dutifully, aware of how hard she was trying to hold it together.

"Just tell him to come to St. Mary's instead of Richard's practice. That he's repeating some tests that were inconclusive."

"I won't lie to Perry," Paul stated calmly.

"I'm not asking you to." Still lying on the office couch, Mrs. Mason held her friend's gaze with a graceful smile. "I just don't want him to get the wrong idea."

"You don't want him to ask for an early adjournment." Paul Drake said sternly. "Just to be clear about your rationale."

"I don't want my condition to interfere with Perry's case, yes." Della's voice was calm but edgy when she sat up. "In case you didn't know, I'm running this law practice for my husband to feed our brood. I can't afford him to get distracted."

"Is it really going that bad?" The private eye asked with genuine concern.

Della averted his eyes and held her head to fight a returning headache.

"Business has been tough before," she offered meekly. "Which is another thing I don't want Perry to mull over. What I want him to do is fight for Margie Rodgers. He chose that case to get her acquitted and so he will."

Paul looked at her and tried to read what it was she didn't tell him.

"You don't think Perry asked Eva Belter to print that apology," it suddenly dawned on him as he remembered his own conversation with Perry about the tabloids from earlier that morning. If he was honest, asking for a public apology really didn't seem like the attorney's style.

"You think it's somehow connected to Margie Rodgers," he continued thoughtfully and joined Della on the couch.

The secretary nodded. "I don't know why or who'd benefit from Perry's involvement in her case, but I've had this bad feeling about it ever since he decided to take it."

"You don't think it's Margie herself who's pulling the strings?"

"No. Perry asked me in the beginning and I still trust my instincts on that: Margie's innocent. But I wonder who else might be involved," Mrs. Mason sighed. "Oh, I don't know. Maybe I'm just tired and feel paranoid after all this hassle with the press. I guess someone should just check my head while I'm being pricked and tested anyway."

Putting his arm around her shoulders, Paul pulled her towards him and shot the Doc Hamilton a worried look. It wasn't like Della to sound down like that.

"I'll look into it," the private detective suddenly said, causing his friend to chuckle.

"Are you a psychiatrist now?"

"No," Paul Drake was relieved she hadn't lost her sense of humor. "I'll see what I can find about that gut feeling of yours. Maybe Perry has a hunch when I tell him about Eva Belter's stunt."

Della nodded, looked up at her husband's best friend and whispered, "Tell him I loved the roses, will you?"

"Of course," Paul smiled and gently kissed her temple. "What else?"

"That I trust him to win this case."

"He already knows that," the P.I shook his head. "See what we're dealing with?" He asked Doctor Hamilton who was smiling thoughtfully at his patient.

Propping herself up from the couch with a little help from Paul Drake, Della squinted her eyes to will away the throbbing of her temples and forced herself to walk towards her husband's desk on shaky feet.

"When you're done rolling your eyes at me, gentlemen, please excuse me," she said with a friendly smile that send them packing. "I'd like to call my aunt before she hears about my sashay to St. Mary's from less reliable sources."

"Gertie," Mrs. Mason asked tiredly when she finally reached her husband's chair. "Could you please put me through to my family?"

"Already waiting for you on line one," her assistant answered faithfully and gestured the men to give Mrs. Mason some privacy.

"Thank you," Della gave her a grateful smile, then picked up the receiver and connected herself with Aunt Mae.

Behind the door in the secretary's office, Gertrude Lade stood with her hands on her hips and glared at the two men she had just maneuvered out of her boss' sight.

"All right," Gertie started matter-of-fact. "I suggest we handle the situation the way we last did when Della's water broke."

"Right," Paul agreed. "I'll brief Perry, instruct my men to work the Rodgers case, pick up the girls from school and drop them off, then get whatever Della is telling Mae to pack for her and bring it to the hospital."

"Okay," the assistant approved and turned her attention to the doctor. "Do you think she'll be hospitalized over night?"

"I'll recommend that," Doctor Hamilton replied. "I know she won't like it, but I'll ask Perry to make her if she shouldn't comply."

"So I better cancel their dinner reservation and arrange for something the boss can take to the hospital when he's going in to see his wife."

"What about our plans?" Paul asked sheepishly.

"No change there," Gertie patted his arm as she walked past him to reach her phone. "The Mason girls are ours for at least one night."


	14. Chapter 14

**Chapter Fourteen**

Perry Mason recognized the scent of her perfume before she even approached him, the five minute recess requested by the prosecution a perfect chance for her to interrupt the persistent concern for his wife and a nervous client by his side. His face looked grim and thoughtful as his eyes skimmed the notes in front of him, his mind torn between speculating about the reasons for Della's condition and worrying about a case that seemed to slip through his fingers, minute by minute. When she stood next to him, he felt her hand on his shoulder, gently greeting him with a caress – a gesture she so often used to show her fondness, especially in his wife's absence.

"How is it going, Perry?" Her voice sounded sweet and innocent, an act Della always knew how to dissect with a cordial smile.

"We are waiting for the prosecution to present their next witness," Perry Mason evaded her question, unwilling to share details about an increasingly bleak trial.

"Not a surprise witness I hope," she hummed into his ear, leaning in too close for a lady who cared about his reputation and her own.

"Not anymore," the attorney answered without raising his gaze, his lack of reaction telling her to give him some space.

"There were times when you were happy to see me," she whispered suggestively. "And now you won't even look up to say hello?" She waited. "There's something about this case, it really has changed you, Perry. And not for the better I might add." Eva Belter finally pouted, her hand still comfortable on his shoulder, almost begging him to react.

"You are a witness against my client, I don't mean to be rude," the attorney offered matter-of-fact.

"Oh, I thought you may be respecting your wife's feelings again, but I see she isn't here," Eva said, giving him a demure smile to imitate Mrs. Mason. "Well, I suppose there's no need for her to hold your hand anymore," she continued, then handed him the latest issue of Spicy Bits. "It's on page five. I hope you did approve of it."

"What is this?" Perry Mason asked calmly, unwilling to get Hamilton Burger's attention.

"You mean your wife hasn't thanked you yet?" Mrs. Belter sounded sweet in her condescension. "It's the apology you asked me to run. What else?"

"I asked you to drop it," the lawyer answered matter-of-fact, his eyes fuming with quiet anger.

"You tried to appeal to my conscience, Perry darling, and I'm usually not easily swayed. But you really have a way with words, I mean, I would never have considered apologizing to a secretary before."

Walking away from him, she broke the intimacy she craved but had failed to create, once again, then looked over her shoulder with an increasingly innocent smile. Nodding to the DA to acknowledge her arrival, Eva Belter sat behind Hamilton Burger only to rise as soon as the bailiff announced the court to be back in session and the judge asked the prosecution to call their next witness. Taking the stand, she exchanged a friendly look with the district attorney before she bore her eyes into Perry Mason's to convey the reasons for her testimony.

With all the evidence piling up against his client, the attorney couldn't believe that one of the things that could break Margie Rodgers' neck was actually the jealousy of a single woman. He had to hand it to Eva Belter, she had been patient with her attempt to get back at him for rejecting her feelings over the years, but unlike Della, he had not expected Eva to be willing to risk her own public humiliation. Her eyes were fierce as she looked at him now, cold despite the heat of envy and calculation he was finally able to see.

"How do you know Eva Belter?" Perry Mason whispered to his client, his eyes still resting on the hostile witness on the stand.

"I told you. I don't know her," Margie Rodgers answered helplessly, intimidated by the woman's relentless glare. "Not really."

Perry Mason nodded, patted her hand for a second, then tucked at his earlobe. He was glad that Della wasn't in the courtroom to hear Eva Belter confirm the parallel between their marriage and this case, the reason for all the renewed gossip. Now that he saw Eva on the stand it was so obvious and so pitiful as well.

_One good man,_ Perry suddenly remembered what Eva had once told him in his office, _one good man who loves me. _His hand covered his mouth to hide an angry sigh._  
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It was Paul's arrival that distracted him for a moment, the look on his face telling Perry that his wife didn't want him to worry. Handing him a note, the private eye sat down in Della's chair beside Margie, sheepishly avoiding the lawyer's gaze.

_She loved the roses_, the note simply said and Perry knew that something was wrong or he had received an _I love you_ written in Della's own elegant hand.

"I see I don't have to brief you about Spicy Bits," Paul stated, his eyes narrow and suspicious when Eva Belter shot a friendly smile in his direction. "Who showed you?" He asked and presented the copy he had discussed with Della a little less than an hour ago.

"The witness for the prosecution," the lawyer grumbled back.

"How is she involved in the case?" Paul queried and saw the answer reflected in Mason's clouded eyes. "I'll get right on it." The private eye got up and rushed away as quietly as he had arrived.

"Is everything all right?" Margie Rodgers asked when she saw her lawyer clenching his fists on the table in front of him.

"It will be," Mason mumbled and offered one of his hands to cover hers in a soothing caress, his eyes closed for a mere second to imagine saying this to his wife instead.


	15. Chapter 15

**Chapter Fifteen**

Della Mason was lying on a bed in the emergency room, her head turned away from the needle a young, innocent-looking nurse was digging for veins with on an arm that still showed signs from a previous examination.

"Please take the left one," Mrs. Mason had insisted although she knew her right arm provided better veins. "I need the other for dictation."

"I'm sorry, ma'am," the girl apologized while her patient winced upon final intrusion.

"It isn't your fault," Della reassured her. "My veins are shy these days."

The young woman smiled and filled the first canula with precious lifeblood, only to exchange it for another. "How long has it been since you last got pricked?"

"About a week," Mrs. Mason answered and flickered her eyes to cover her discomfort over the light pressure she felt building up in her arm.

"Does it hurt?" The girl bit her lip, obviously feeling for the lady in her care.

"It's all right," Della lied. "Just let me know how to avoid the bruising this time."

"We're almost done," the nurse soothed her, extracted the last canula, then removed the needle and smiled at her patient when she finally looked into her eyes. "Just hold your arm up like this and put some pressure on the puncture, that should reduce the bruising."

"Thank you." Della Mason exhaled to fight the queasy feeling that always overcame her after giving blood.

"My pleasure," the girl answered and treated Della's sore arm to a band aid. "Just lean back and go easy on your arm until further notice. Doctor Hamilton will be right back to take you upstairs for more tests."

"What do I hear about going easy on your arm?" A resolute but warmhearted Mrs. Hamilton pushed the curtain aside that had protected the young nurse and her patient from prying eyes. "Are you still giving the nurses a hard time drawing blood from you, Mrs. Mason?"

Della smiled and extended her right hand to give her friend a warm hello. Squeezing her fingers on the bed, Lauren Hamilton returned the smile without hiding her concern. "Please get Mrs. Mason a glass of water, Beverly."

"Betty," the young nurse smiled at her former supervisor.

"Betty, of course, I'm sorry," Laurie rolled her eyes. "It's not been that long."

"Four years, ma'am," the young nurse replied. "And I was only a student when you left."

"I must've trained you well if you find excuses for the doctor's wife," Mrs. Hamilton offered warmly. "Betty, will you do me a favor and make sure that my friend here is going to get the best treatment?"

"Of course, ma'am." The nurse nodded. "Doctor Hamilton already instructed us to take extra good care of Mrs. Mason."

"That's only because he's afraid her husband may sue the hospital for maltreatment." Laurie grinned. "I, on the other hand, am asking you as Mrs. Mason's dear friend who would just hate if she was miserable on her anniversary. So if Mr. Mason shows up here later, and trust me he will at who knows what ungodly hour, just help him find her, all right? You really can't miss him. He's tall, handsome and awfully grumpy when he's without his wife. But he'll warm up once he knows she's all right."

"Don't scare the poor girl. Perry isn't grumpy when I'm not around," Della laughed.

"How would you know?" Her friend returned. "He's a volcano ready to burst when he's worried about you."

"Oh," Mrs. Mason clicked her tongue to dismiss Laurie's remark.

"You're biased," Lauren Hamilton chuckled. "He's your husband and what's worse, you love him."

"Now I could really do with a glass of water," Della almost begged the young nurse.

"Of course," Betty bit her lip to suppress a smirk, grateful for a chance to excuse herself.

"Tell me, Della, why are you here." Mrs. Hamilton was serious now. "Why did Richard rush you to the emergency room."

"He's an overcautious doctor," Della Mason replied with a shrug. "That's why my husband likes him so much."

"Judging from your skin color, I'd say attentive is the better word," Lauren gave back. "What's wrong?"

Shaking her head, the secretary pursed her lips and smiled.

Knowing her friend's habit to avoid herself as a topic, Laurie looked at Della for a moment, a caring smile gracing her lips to calm her long enough for the young nurse to return with a glass of fresh, cold water. "Please tell Doctor Hamilton to give us a minute," Mrs. Hamilton said quietly and sat in silence until they were alone again. "Now tell me, Della, how come you rather spend your anniversary with my husband than yours?"

Unable to stop her tears from falling now, Della croaked, "All day I was hoping that I'm not pregnant again, that I won't have to think about juggling another little person into our tight schedule. But now?! Now I can't think of anything I'd want more. It would be an easy explanation to my symptoms and for once easy sounds really tempting."

Inviting her friend to just let go, Laurie handed Della a handkerchief and quietly caressed her trembling hand.

"We've made plans for tonight. Perry has no time but I know he put a lot of thought into _our night_," Della sobbed. "A fancy dinner, some dancing, candlelight. I can't be sick now. This is the night I was supposed to get with my husband. No case. No teething. No homework or kids. Just him and me, his arms to hold me and then sleeping in tomorrow."

"Oh dear," Laurie couldn't help but pull her friend into a loving embrace. "You really miss him, don't you?"

Mrs. Mason nodded. "I love our girls and wouldn't swap them for the world, but..."

"But you need some time alone with the man you love." Laurie nodded and released her friend from her embrace again. "I really don't know how you do it, four kids and a career. I'm at home with two boys and feel exhausted all day. But then, of course, girls are easier." The last remark made Della chuckle through her tears. Laurie always knew how to cheer her up again.

"Good," Doctor Hamilton interrupted his wife before she could make another wicked remark. "I like to hear my patients laugh."

"Any news?" Mrs. Hamilton asked before Della even had a chance.

"Only about the infection," Richard Hamilton answered. "I'd like to put you on antibiotics for a week, Della, and advise strict bed rest without exception."

"Is that really necessary?" Della Mason queried.

"I'm aware you have a lot on your plate at the moment, but if you don't want to become a more permanent guest in this facility, I recommend you take a break and ask your husband to spoil you instead." The doctor smiled at his patient and then added, "Your under temperature still has me worried, so I'd like to have you observed for a night. I know it inconveniences you today, but..."

"I understand," Della caved in.

"Good." Doctor Hamilton's smile broadened. That's why he had called in the cavalry to support his concerns. "Laurie, would you please show her upstairs so I can check back with the lab? I have a feeling Della may be more comfortable having you assist her with everything."

"Of course," Mrs. Hamilton answered.

"Richard," Della stopped him before he could leave. "If it's something serious I want you to tell me right away."

"I know you wouldn't want it any other way," the doctor answered and placed a loving kiss onto her hand. "But don't worry so much. You'll be fine," he said and quoted her like Laurie so often did. "Just fine."


	16. Chapter 16

**Chapter Sixteen**

It was a twist Perry Mason hadn't expected, a testimony that could turn out to save his client's neck. Eva Belter, dressed to impress and unusually testy on the stand, told him more than mere facts. Still calm when Burger had interrogated her, she became cool and feisty with him during cross-examination, revealing her real motivation behind a futile mission to incriminate Margie Rodgers. It could have been a Freudian slip-up to exchange Margie's name for Della's, but Perry knew it was much more than that. He knew it was a confession on her part, a last attempt to make him understand how much he had hurt her by choosing his secretary over her. It didn't matter that Perry had never expressed an interest in Eva Belter, nor that Margie had not known about her employer's simultaneous affair. It was simply an unfortunate coincidence that Eva had fallen for another lawyer, another man who hadn't loved her back.

What surprised Perry Mason were the tears in the witness' eyes, too genuine to be willed up for a perfect performance, an honest admission of anger and pride. Her pretense was gone for a moment and Perry felt for Eva Belter, felt compassion a woman his wife had always told him not to trust with anything.

When she left the witness stand, the judge announced to break for lunch, allowing Perry to stop Mrs. Belter before she could slip away from him.

"Why did you print that apology?" The attorney asked, quietly trying to get an answer to one of his previous questions.

"Because you wanted me to," Eva Belter whispered. "You may not have said it with words, but it was still clear what you meant."

"I cannot keep you on as my client," Perry stated.

"You made that clear enough." Mrs. Belter cleared her throat. "I'm sure your wife will be pleased."

"Why did you print that apology?" Perry Mason asked again, still unsatisfied with her answer.

"Because I now know that Margie Rodgers is innocent."

The courtroom had already cleared when Perry Mason sat stunned at his table, his right hand rubbing his chin while his left was clenched to a fist. Mulling over Eva Belter's words, Perry went over her testimony over and over again until Paul Drake returned from briefing his operatives, a big broad smile gracing his boyish face.

"There you are," the detective said out of breath. "I thought you had already left for the office."

"What gives, Paul?" The attorney mumbled, still trying to find his footing in Margie's case.

"I found the connection to Eva Belter."

"She had an affair with Margie's boss," Mason sighed. "I know, I know."

"Don't tell me you just squeezed that out of Mrs. Spicy Bits." Paul was surprised.

"The witness for the prosecution turned out to help us more than expected. I just don't know how to use her information for our advantage."

"Do you already know that Margie's sister did more than just arrange for your client to get that job at Upton & Mercer?"

"How do you mean?" Perry's eyes were alert.

"I mean that she was Upton's second hand before she got married rather suddenly."

"Don't tell me she was another member of Upton's fan club."

"She was Mother Superior so-to-speak." Paul grinned.

"Interesting metaphor." Perry Mason buried his mouth in his right hand. "What proof do we have?"

"Her son is not her husband's," the private eye announced under his breath, causing Perry to shake his head about the hidden insult in Eva Belter's apology.


	17. Chapter 17

**Chapter Seventeen  
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It was a short lunch break for Paul Drake. His men already instructed to deliver full proof about the origin of Margie's nephew, Perry had asked him to take care of his wife again, at least until he would be able to wrap the case up for the day. Aware of the fact that Della didn't want him to worry while he was still in court, Perry had refrained from catechizing his friend about her condition. If it was serious, the lawyer trusted Paul to tell him and rather focused on closing a case that had brought more trouble to his family than anticipated.

After informing Perry about his wife's instructions for the day, the detective had left court without disclosing Della's current whereabouts or Dr. Hamilton's concerns. He hated when Della prioritized Mrs. Mason over Miss Street, asking him to conceal the truth from her husband, even though not the whole truth but still enough of it to make him feel uncomfortable. But he knew Della wasn't the dishonest type, that her motives were always in the best interest of Perry and his clients, their practice in general and, more increasingly, their four blooming kids, two of which were now cheerfully sitting right beside him.

Picking them up from school had been a smooth endeavor, Amy's suspicions momentarily averted through hugs and candy he had bought along the way. _She is so much like her mother_, Paul had thought to himself when the eight-year-old had accepted his bribe with a skeptical smile, her eyes now telling him she didn't buy into his little white lie that her parents had been held up in court. Being her mother's daughter, Amy didn't ask what was going on but trusted him instead, then eagerly supported her sister to talk Uncle Paul into ice cream before he dropped them off at home.

"Don't tell Aunt Mae about our little secret," Paul reminded his god-daughters when he finally stopped the car in front of the Mason home. "Hey, wait a minute, Precious," he shouted quietly and stopped Phoebe from hopping out of the car too quickly. "Our secret is showing all around your adorable little snout."

Wiping the five-year-old's mouth with his handkerchief, his heart melted to hear her giggling in delight. "Off you go," the detective announced, welcomed Phoebe's smack and smiled at Amy who checked her mouth in the side mirror of his convertible. "No traces of vanilla on you, Pretty One," he assured her and slid across the seat to exit his vehicle on her side of the driveway.

"My, my," Mae's voice sounded from the front porch of her niece's home. "Aren't you a fast one, Mr. Drake." The old woman's mouth was curled up into a welcoming smile while her eyes showed signs of deep concern. "I could've sworn Della just called to announce the change of plans."

"I hope it isn't too inconvenient," the private eye played along, respecting Della's wishes to not alert the children about her condition.

"Not at all," Mae answered truthfully. "I'm sure you won't mind having a BLT for the road." Another smile.

"I don't mind having two if that's an option," he replied with a genuine grin.

"Go hang up your coats and wash your hands," the old lady greeted her grandnieces as they rushed past her into the house, dropping their books and bags along the way. "Do you see this, Paul?" She sighed. "It's their father's influence. They drop their things wherever they go. I really don't know how Della is keeping up with this, how this isn't driving her mad."

The private eye chuckled and gave Mae a hand in picking the girls' stuff up from the floor.

"They'd do anything to imitate him," the old woman continued lovingly. "They love him so much." She looked at Paul and paused. "How is she?"

"Going strong as usual," the private eye put a soothing hand on her tiny shoulder.

"I've been so afraid something like this would happen," the old lady whispered, stopping her voice from trembling. "She's asking too much of herself, always putting Perry first, the practice, the girls. It's not healthy. She needs a break." Mae took a deep breath, then lowered her head, her cheeks blushed. She was embarrassed. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to tattle."

"It's all right, dear. I'm worried about her, too." The detective's voice was soft and low when he held her, providing the kind of hug he wished he could have given Della earlier.

"I know she loves him," the old lady said under her breath, her tiny frame almost completely vanished in Paul's grandson-like embrace.

"She does," Paul Drake agreed. "More than she loves herself."

"Is that a good thing?" Mae dared to ask, then shook her head. "I mean, I know she's concerned about the tabloids and Amy. She's never said a word but I'm sure she's unhappy about the case and my instincts tell me she's going to have another baby..."

"So you're the one who put that idea in Perry's head," Paul chuckled. "Well, Della doesn't seem to think that is an issue and I'm not so sure she wants to have another child just yet."

Looking up at the detective, towering over her by almost ten inches, Mae sighed and broke away from his comforting embrace. "Now we are really tattering," she scolded him and also herself.

"I guess we are," the P.I. agreed and gave the old woman an understanding smile. "So tell me, where is the suitcase I'm supposed to take before we both start sounding like those tabloids?"

"It's in here," Mae answered with a Street-famous pout and opened the closet door. "I didn't want the girls to ask questions."

"I really wonder where Della got her sense of protection from," Drake grinned, then placed a kiss onto Mae's rosy cheeks. "Now why don't you go into the kitchen and fetch me a sandwich to go and a piece of that apple pie I smell from the oven while I hide this suitcase in the trunk of my car?"

"That cake, Mr. Private Eye, is for Gertie and you tonight. So don't think you get to taste it now," Mae laughed and disappeared into the kitchen, shouting for Amy and Phoebe to come downstairs again to say goodbye to their uncle who quickly buried Della's suitcase in the back of his car.

"That's for Mommy," Phoebe announced before she hopped up in Paul's arms and placed a big smack onto his cheek.

"I'll make sure she gets it," the detective grinned, then turned to Amy. "Any message from you, Pretty One?"

The eight-year-old shook her head and waited for her little sister to be put on the ground again, then took her hand in hers and looked sadly in her uncle's eyes.

"Do you want me to tell her to call you tonight?" Paul asked quietly, detecting something in his godchild's eyes that worried him. "I'm sure she won't mind."

Amy shrugged, then let go of her sister's hand as the detective encouraged Phoebe to run into the kitchen to give Mae a helping hand.

"Is there anything I can do?" Paul Drake asked and sat down on the steps, inviting Amy to sit right next to him. "Anything I can do to help?"

The girl just looked at him, her eyes dark like her parents' when they were brooding over something, her face pale somehow yet beautiful like her mother's.

"You are very much like your mother, do you know that?" Paul smiled at her and held her close, relieved to find her seeking his embrace. "Your mother also likes to keep her sorrows to herself. She never wants anyone to know she isn't doing well, but, you know, your father, Aunt Mae and I, we can always tell. And I know she's a little worried about you right now, because you do not smile as much as you used to. And you have such a beautiful smile, one of the many things you got from your mother. Actually, you also have a lot from your father, too. Your hair, your eyes, your mischief and dimples – such a perfect combination of the two of them. You all are, Phoebe, too, and Kate and Liz. They are still so small, but you can already tell. The dark curls and fair skin, your sense of loyalty and humor. There is no one who would honestly believe you could belong to any other family."

Amy sat quietly beside him and listened to the softness of her uncle's words, tears falling from her eyes without creating a sound in the back of her throat.

"They both love you so much," Paul went on and placed a kiss onto his goddaughter's fluffy curls. "They always have, even before you were born. And they always will. There is nothing more important to them than you – you and your sisters, you are the world to them."

"Jimmy Doyle said I'm a bastard child," Amy sobbed under her breath.

"Jimmy Doyle is a nosebleed," Paul grumbled. "Don't tell your mother I said that."

Amy began to smile.

"There, you see. That's what I'm talking about," the private eye lovingly rubbed her upper arm. "You are so beautiful when you smile. Just don't listen to those squares, it doesn't matter what they think or say. Your father fell in love with your mother and they were long married before they took their vows. That's all you need to know."

Sitting in silence for a while, Paul finally heard Aunt Mae approaching them from the inside with Phoebe following close behind, carrying a bag of sandwiches in her tiny hands.

"Are you better now?" The private eye asked the little girl still savoring his embrace.

Amy nodded and placed a kiss onto his cheek like her little sister had a short while ago.

"Is that for your mother?" Paul Drake asked with a tender smile.

"No," the eight-year-old replied sweetly. "Just for you. I'll kiss Mommy when I see her tomorrow."


	18. Chapter 18

**Chapter Eighteen**

When Perry Mason opened the back door to his private office, he immediately noticed the faint scent of his wife's perfume. Scanning the room for traces of her shoes or purse, his eyes came to rest on the neatly sorted mail on his desk instead and the flowers Paul had told him Della had found and loved. Although it wasn't unusual to see the morning mail piling up right next to the phone, something about the stack of letters struck him as odd, but he couldn't quite put his finger on it. Shaking off an uneasy feeling about the unusual pattern of the mail, the absence of his wife's beautiful form on the couch and the overall quiet in his practice, the attorney closed the door behind him and locked it out of habit.

"Della?" He shouted gently as hung his coat over the back of the easy chair, then waited for his secretary to appear and explain why she had chosen to work at the office rather than rest in their cozy home.

"Della?" His voice sounded through the open door to her conjoined office. "Darling, I'm back for lunch."

Perry sat behind his desk, half lost in thought as his eyes registered Eva Belter's dramatic handwriting on a letter his wife had dismissed to the back of the FYI pile. He skimmed the note and rubbed his chin, his forehead forming a deep furrow between his eyebrows until he heard a noise. Expecting his better half to enter his office with sandwiches and coffee on a tray, he looked up to find Gertrude Lade greeting him instead.

"What's this?" The attorney asked, his eyes squinted and dark. "Where's Della?"

"Della's in the hospital," Gertie answered quietly, unwilling to upset her boss. "She was a little shaky on her feet, Doctor Hamilton felt it would be best to..."

"When was that?" Perry Mason interrupted her in his courtroom voice.

"About two hours ago," the receptionist surrendered and watched the lawyers face go from angry to pale within seconds.

"Where is she?" Perry queried, his voice suddenly trembling.

"St. Mary's," Gertie offered calmly. "She didn't want Paul to tell you."

The attorney glared at his wife's assistant, processed her words, then slowly shook his head. "When did this practice become a priority in our lives, Gertie?" He asked after a while. "Do you remember?"

"I don't know, sir." Gertrude Lade shrugged, unsure how to respond. "I don't see that anything has changed."

Resting his eyes on hers, Perry Mason nodded, his smile small and gentle but also strangely sad. "And once again you've hit the nail on the head, Gertie," he said and gently squeezed her shoulder when he passed her on his way out.

En route to the hospital, the attorney sat in silence in his car. He drummed his fingers on the stirring wheel and cursed lunch hour traffic for keeping him stuck. It was so much easier than admitting how scared he was, how helpless he felt about the entire situation. When he reached St. Mary's moments later, Perry rushed to the emergency room, his gaze frantic but calm as he paced the hallway to find the doctor in charge.

"Mrs. Mason," he said breathlessly when he finally found a nurse to address. "I'm looking for Mrs. Della Mason." His heart sank when the young woman shrugged and left him stranded, her finger merely pointing to the information desk.

Refusing to stand in line and wait until it was his turn to ask his questions, the attorney kept rushing through the hallway and stopped two more nurses without success until an elderly, boyish nurse thwarted him eventually.

"If you keep pacing through my emergency room like this, I'll call security to restrain you."

"I'm looking for my wife," Perry Mason grumbled, piercing the woman's eyes with growing distress.

"Maternity ward is on the third floor," the nurse answered and shoved his broad frame towards the elevators.

"We're not having another baby," the attorney tried to fight her off. "Not yet anyway."

"Then where is she?"

"That's what I'm asking you!" Perry shouted, too frustrated to care how many people looked at him now.

"Name?" The nurse asked coldly.

"Mason," an increasingly impatient lawyer replied. "Della Mason. She was admitted by Doctor Hamilton earlier today."

"Mason, as in Perry Mason?" The elderly nurse gave him a disapproving once-over. "The famous shyster?"

"That one exactly," the attorney responded, too preoccupied to charm her with a clever comeback.

"She was passing through here this morning. She's since been transferred to the private ward. Such a pleasant patient, unobtrusive and calm. Not much like her husband I must say."

Ignoring her remark, Perry Mason looked at the directory right next to the elevator door. "Sixth floor," he mumbled to himself before he addressed the feisty nurse again. "Which room?"

"That I don't know, but it doesn't really matter," she returned matter-of-fact. "Visiting hours are from four to five without exception. You can come back later."

"I'm here to see my wife now," the attorney grumbled.

"You may win cases in court with that attitude," the doughty nurse stated. "But it won't impress anyone here."

Perry took a deep breath. "Look, I've been told my wife is sick. My wife is never sick. At least not sick enough to be rushed to the hospital by our family doctor. I need to know what's wrong with her. I need to know what's going on and I need to know NOW."

"Mr. Mason?" The sweet voice of a younger nurse interrupted Perry before he could raise his voice to an intimidating rumble.

"Yes?" He asked, his tone gruff and crabby, his eyes piercing the elderly woman who had crossed her arms in a defensive manner, unimpressed by his urgent plea.

"Mrs. Hamilton asked me to see you to your wife when you arrive," the young woman resisted to flinch and smiled at the tall man instead. "She's in room 605."

Nodding his head towards the young nurse, Perry Mason relaxed visibly and gladly accepted her invitation to follow her, oblivious of the grim look his previous sparring partner exchanged with the girl.

"I'm Betty," the young woman said sweetly. "Mrs. Hamilton said you may be a little irritated upon arrival. I understand. Hospitals have that effect on people. I work here, I'm used to it."

Unable to get engaged in a pleasant conversation while he was still deprived of knowledge about his wife's condition, Perry simply stood and forced himself to smile. After all, the girl seemed nice.

"So, did Paul spill the news after all?"Lauren Hamilton greeted the attorney with a quick peck on the cheek when he reached the hallway in front of room 605.

"How is she?" Perry asked quietly and said hello to his wife's friend without a smile.

"Missing you," Laurie gave the only answer she knew would calm him down long enough to listen. "Scolding herself for leaving you out there in the rain all by yourself."

"I need to see her," Perry urged.

"You will," Laurie said. "After all, I still have some pull in this place, but the doctors are with her now."

"I want her to know I'm here," Perry was getting impatient again.

"To do what? Hold her hand?" Laurie asked, channeling her head nurse past. "Your wife gave birth to four children without your assistance, she'll be fine going through a simple examination now." She paused, then linked arms with the attorney whose broad shoulders looked sunken in and stiff. "Come on, you big lug. I haven't seen you in ages. Let's catch up in the waiting room. I'm beginning to get tired of only reading about you in the gossip columns."


	19. Chapter 19

**Chapter Nineteen**

Lauren Hamilton sat in one of the cushioned chairs by the window and smiled at a young woman who was impressed by the man pacing the waiting room like a lion in a cage. Tall and handsome as usual, his body language was abrasive and anxious, his attitude far from dignified and calm. His hair was grayer now and partially white, the lines around his eyes more defined. The young woman, though half his age, studied him with adoring eyes, the newspaper on her knees suggesting Perry Mason had been recognized. However, lost in thought and unaware of his admirer, the lawyer didn't grant her a fleeting smile, no matter how hard she tried. Disappointed she got up when the day nurse finally approached her and nodded her head to Mrs. Hamilton to say goodbye. Looking after her until the door was shut from the outside, Laurie smiled and remembered her first impression of Perry years ago, when the great lawyer had been her difficult patient and only his secretary had known how to handle his moods. Now, with Della in sick bed, Laurie wasn't surprised to see him agitated and helpless, after all, she remembered his months without her all too well. In court, he always seemed cool and in control, but without his wife, so she had witnessed, the great Perry Mason dwindled to mere existence, reduced to survival and lost in life.

"Why don't you sit down?" Lauren Hamilton asked to interrupt his frantic pattern. "I can get you a cup of coffee if you want."

Standing still, the attorney seemed to consider her offer for a moment only to dismiss it seconds later, his hands deeply buried in his pockets, his shoulders painfully tense.

"How's the case coming? How are the girls?" The former nurse tried to take advantage of his quiet.

"They are fine," Perry answered, then finally sat across from her and buried his face in his hands. Sitting in silence for a while, he didn't even seem to breath until, all of a sudden, he rubbed his face and looked up at Lauren Hamilton, his eyes tormented and sad.

"She's going to be all right," Laurie whispered, reminded of the last time he had looked so vulnerable. "You have to believe she's going to be fine."

"This morning, she told me she's scared," the attorney said, his voice calm and sincere. "That's not like Della. She's never scared."

"Oh, I remember a time when she was." Laurie gave him a soothing smile and placed her hand on his to emphasize she didn't mean to hurt him with her words.

"I let her slip away," the lawyer admitted quietly.

"You tried to respect her decision," Laurie said and chuckled when Perry shot her a skeptical look.

"I don't remember you being so supportive then."

"You gave Della a child out of wedlock, what did you expect?" Laurie replied honestly. "I'm still surprised Mae didn't have you horsewhipped."

"She didn't have to," Perry exhaled. "Paul roughed me up pretty bad."

"Della never told me that!"

"She doesn't know," the attorney confessed.

"Well, you deserved it," Lauren Hamilton approved. "Although I know you suffered for letting her go."

"I love her, Laurie," Perry whispered. "I love her so much."

"I know you do," Laurie tried to comfort him, but Perry Mason jumped up from his chair and stood by the window, his eyes filled with tears he didn't want anyone to see.

"I didn't mean to hurt our family with this case," he said quietly. "I didn't expect it to turn into such a spectacle."

"You are taking a pretty bad beating in the papers," Laurie responded as neutrally as possible.

"I've long stopped reading those local rags," Perry grumbled.

"Della hasn't."

"No," the attorney sighed. "But she's keeping them out of the house so Amy won't get her hands on what they say about us."

"Does she know?" Laurie pushed her luck with his temporary patience.

"Yes," Perry answered reluctantly. "Amy has known for quite some time."

"And how is she coping with it?"

"She's the spitting image of her mother, what do you think?" Perry replied gruffly, then took refuge in his own thoughts again.

"Perry," Doctor Hamilton's voice suddenly cut in the silence in the room, sending a shiver down the attorney's spine.

"How is she?" Perry Mason asked.

"Better now that she's resting," the doctor replied truthfully.

"I need to see her," Perry declared.

"Yes, of course," Richard Hamilton responded and exchanged a quick look with his wife. "Follow me."

When Perry Mason reached room 605 a minute later, he felt as if his steps had been slowed down by sandbags and stones, his shoulders had cramped up to a painful hardening.

"I gave her something to help her sleep," the doctor explained while he opened the door for Perry to step inside.

"What's wrong with her?" He asked quietly and studied his wife from a distance lying peacefully on her hospital bed, her face beautiful and relaxed.

"We are still waiting for the last test results, but everything taken into account, I say she's suffering from exhaustion."

Standing motionless by the door, Perry Mason heard the verdict about his wife's health but didn't react. His face blank and pale, he asked, "What are the symptoms?"

"Low blood pressure, an elevated lipase level and under temperature. During the examination with my colleague, she's also admitted to headaches, abdominal pain and disrupted sleep patterns."

"I know she's had nightmares," Perry whispered. "She's been tossing and turning so much lately."

"Della told me she hasn't eaten much today, so her blood pressure should get back to normal once we've put her on a diet to meet her pancreatic needs."

"What does that mean?" The attorney queried.

"She has to watch what she eats for a while. Low fat, no fish or meat, nothing fried."

"Will she be all right?"

"Pancreatic issues are running in the family Della said, so I don't see why she shouldn't be able to handle them well."

"Are there any meds she needs to take?"

"There's nothing we could give her but pain relievers if her abdominal pain should increase. Her headaches are very likely connected to her dietary needs, so I don't see any reason for giving her anything but sleeping pills to allow her to rest. After all, a mind at ease often settles everything else."

"What can I do to help?" Perry asked without ever taking his eyes off his wife.

"Make sure she gets some peace and quiet," Richard answered. "And treat her to everything that makes her smile."


	20. Chapter 20

**Chapter Twenty**

When Paul arrived at the hospital to deliver the little suitcase Mae had packed for her niece, he met Lauren Hamilton in the hallway in front of Della's room. Talking to one of the nurses, Mrs. Hamilton looked professional and a little intimidating to the young woman who was listening to her orders. The detective smiled. Knowing the private Lauren, he knew how silly she could be, how different from the respectable facade of a doctor's wife.

"Well, Mrs. Hamilton," he greeted her with a hint of mockery in his voice. "Back in the habit of scaring your husband's personnel?" She pursed her lips like Della had taught her and added a wicked smile. "Do you miss it that much?"

"Before I saw the skin color of my dearest friend in there, I did," she answered and pointed to the room Della was resting in.

"Work isn't what it's cracked up to be my old man used to say."

"Neither is taking care of your kids," Laurie whispered. "But don't tell Richard I said that. It would only rub salt into an open wound."

"You mean, Richard my be secretly pleased to see Della here?" The P.I. raised his eyebrows.

"Oh no, I wouldn't go that far." Laurie waved her hand. "He loves Della like he'd love my sister if she weren't such a witch."

Biting his lower lip to stop himself from chuckling, Paul nodded. "I see."

"Is that Della's suitcase?"

"It is," the private eye confirmed, but was reluctant to hand it over. "Can I give it to her? I have something else I have to deliver." He grinned.

"Sure." Laurie shrugged. "Perry's sitting with her, why don't you just poke in your head and say hello?"

"Perry's here?" Paul asked, hesitant to go inside.

"Yes. Why?" Laurie eyed him suspiciously.

"Oh, nothing," the detective mumbled, turned and drew in a deep breath, then finally opened the door to Della's slightly shaded room. Sitting by her bed was Perry Mason, his hands protectively clutching hers, his lips brushing tenderly against his wife's fingers.

Paul stood in the doorway for a while, reminded of the many moments he had felt like an intruder in his friends' lives. "How is she?" He finally asked, his voice quiet and calm.

"She's sleeping," the attorney whispered, his eyes fixed on Della's pretty face.

"I brought her things," Paul Drake said. "I hope Mae packed everything she needs." Waiting for his friend to respond, the detective stood like a schoolboy who had been summoned by the principal to be sentenced to detention. "Is there anything I can do?"

"You were supposed to take her home," Perry answered coolly.

"She asked me not to," Paul defended himself. "What was I supposed to do?"

"You should've told me where she is."

"Do you know how hard it is to say no to your wife?" The detective reasoned and saw a little smile flashing up on the lawyer's lips.

"I may have an idea." Perry placed another kiss onto his wife's fingers.

"What did they say, the doctors I mean?"

"She's suffering from exhaustion," Perry Mason stated, his breathing quietly ragged.

"Will she be fine?" Paul queried, uncomfortable to see his friend cry.

"We have to adapt to a couple of things, but she'll be all right."

Putting down the suitcase on the little table by the window, Paul Drake sat in a chair across from Perry and rubbed his face with his hands. When he looked up again, the attorney had gotten up to stand by the window, the reflection on the glass showing his gloomy mood.

"Did she tell you?" He asked after a while. "Did she tell you she wasn't feeling all right?"

"No," the detective whispered.

Perry nodded and drew in a sharp breath. "Does Mae know where she is?"

"Yes, Della called her herself."

"The girls?" Perry Mason turned around and leaned against the window bench.

Paul shook his head.

"Good." The lawyer was relieved.

"I checked back with my men," the detective started, but Perry stopped him mid-sentence.

"Not now," he said and saw the doubt washing over Paul Drake's face. "All right," the attorney caved in. "But make it quick."

"I've checked back with my contacts at Upton & Mercer."

"And?" Perry asked.

"Turns out there are rumors about a hushed up settlement with Margie's sister when she left."

"What kinds of rumors?"

"The kind of rumor that's valid," the private eye replied. "Upton's accountant is ready to testify."

"He came forward?" The attorney was skeptical.

"Only after I mentioned Eva Belter's testimony." Paul grinned. "According to him, she master-minded the details."


	21. Chapter 21

**Chapter Twenty-One**

She felt his breath on her skin, his lips leaving goosebumps on her chest before they came to rest on her naval, his tongue tickling her inside of it and out. She heard the sound of her own gurgled laughter, felt her muscles tightening and then relaxing again, her breathing labored one second and stopping the next. Lying half awake in her hospital bed, Della Mason indulged in the memory of her husband's skin on hers, his hands traveling where his body didn't reach, his broad form covering her like a blanket. She smiled and heard him whisper, his I-love-you caressing her ears. Della gasped, unable to breathe, then struggled to fully wake and embrace his presence, to feel the warmth of his hand cupping hers. It was his thumb tenderly caressing her skin that finally helped her come to her senses, the familiar scent of his aftershave luring her awake.

"What time is it?" She mumbled, her eyelids too heavy to lift them.

"A little after 5pm," Perry answered in a hoarse voice trembling with emotion.

"Shouldn't you be in court?"

"I asked for an adjournment to take care of a personal case," Perry Mason said quietly and placed a loving kiss on the back of her hand. "Richard told me you didn't eat."

"I wasn't hungry," Della returned and finally willed her eyes to open.

"You must eat," her husband pleaded, his voice matching the worry reflected in his eyes.

Squeezing his hand to avoid the topic, she gave him a sad little smile. "I'm not pregnant."

"I know," Perry replied and wiped away her silent tear. "I thought you'd be relieved."

"So did I," she croaked.

Getting up to sit on the edge of her bed, he pulled her towards him and caressed the back of her head. "Do you want to have another baby?" His voice was soft and tender. "Do you want us to try?"

"We've never tried before," Della said under her breath.

"There are a lot of things we'll have to change," Perry returned matter-of-fact and placed a loving kiss on his wife's curly head. "Doctor's orders."

"What about Margie's case?" Della queried.

"It will have to wait."

"You know it can't," Mrs. Mason softly chided her husband.

"Paul is looking for her sister at the moment. We have a lead to her involvement in the case."

"Didn't you dismiss her before?" Della wrinkled her forehead.

"As a character witness, yes, but she may have more answers than I thought," the attorney brushed his lips over his wife's head. "I'll find out in court tomorrow."

"Oh, you've already written me off," Mrs. Mason faked a pout.

"My hands are tied," Perry answered more seriously than intended. "I was ordered to spoil you."

"After what Richard told me about my diet, I'm not sure I'll enjoy it as much as I used to," Della quipped.

"I remember a time when spoiling you didn't exactly involve food." Perry smiled, his mouth still buried in the softness of his wife's curls.

"I thought the whole point was to get me to eat again." Della cuddled closer to his chest.

"You're being argumentative." Perry Mason shook his head. "I suppose Richard is right, rest does indeed make a difference."

"Hm," Mrs. Mason hummed. "But getting spoiled and getting rest are somewhat mutually exclusive, don't you think?" Lifting her head to get treated to a kiss, Della smiled at her husband, well aware that the discussion wasn't over.

"I need you, darling," he purred against her lips before parting them, his hands caressing her waist as if to emphasize his point. "And I need every pound of you where it belongs."

Holding each other for a while, they teased and tasted one another like they hadn't in months, taking their time to refresh memories of a private life. Aroused by his wife's tender treatment, Perry smiled when she lost herself in his embrace and moaned into his mouth in quiet bliss. Stopping herself from deepening their kiss, Della leaned back to look into her husband's eyes, her hands instantly searching his to keep their physical contact.

"I asked Laurie to arrange for me to spend the night," Perry interrupted her before she could speak, his darkened blue unable to turn away from her swollen lips.

"I'm sorry that I've ruined our plans for tonight." Della said and closed her eyes as her husband leaned down to steal another tender buss.

"Where is the necklace I gave you this morning?"

"In the drawer," his wife replied, her eyes squinted and confused. "Why?"

Perry cupped her chin with one of his hands ands caressed her lips with his thumb before he opened the drawer and ran his fingers over her bejeweled initials.

"When you first wore your Della Street initials to the office," he started, "I didn't understand why you would wear them so proudly around your neck. I didn't understand until you went away." He paused. "This new necklace here is as precious to me as I hope it is to you. I cherish the M you added to your name by marrying me. It stands for the home you have given me. For our children, the love you are coddling me with. It stands for all the blessings you have brought into my life, for your order to my chaos and the balance. You even me out, so if one of us should be sorry for ruining our plans for tonight, it's me. It is my job to make you happy, baby. It is my job to feed and support you, to know when you aren't well."

"There are two of us in this marriage, Perry," Della whispered.

"There should be," her husband agreed. "But apparently I haven't been the kind of help you needed to stay healthy."

"You are here now." Della brushed her fingers over Perry's, then entwined them with hers. "Although you shouldn't be."

"Don't argue you with me when I'm in the mood to admit to my mistakes," Perry squeezed her hand.

"I'm fine, darling," she reassured her spouse, her smile inviting him to another tender kiss.

"No, baby," her husband's timbre vibrated against her lips. "You are not. Your entire system has turned against you. You are right about a lot of things, but this isn't one of them."

Closing her eyes to his tender treatment, Della allowed his words to sink in before she replied, her voice calm and sincere. "I cannot be a housewife. I'm not build that way for long."

"I'm not asking you to just change diapers and do dishes from now on," Perry promised. "But you can't keep going like this. Della, please, your health has to be our priority."

Sinking back into her pillow, Della turned her head towards the window and watched the sky through half-open shades. Eyes wide, she was agonizing over the choices she had to make, her husband's gaze caressing her face, their hands still connected, giving her strength.


	22. Chapter 22

**Chapter Twenty-Two**

Getrude Lade was sitting at her desk, hidden behind a pile of notes and a file Mrs. Mason had labeled The Case of the Heartbroken Secretary. Arranging the notes in an order that had taken the assistant weeks to adapt to after Della had left, she remembered the many replacements for her boss' private secretary in her two years of absence, none of whom had gotten a fair chance to emerge from the shadow of Della Street. With a sigh, Gertie recalled the fleeting feeling of satisfaction when she had finally tackled Della's system, when Mr. Mason had called her into his office to announce that it was unnecessary to look for yet another secretary, that she, Gertie Lade would continue what she had learned from the best. He hadn't spoken Della's name that day, had been unable to do so or unwilling, the assistant had been unable to say. All she knew was that he had kept a picture of Della in his desk and that despite all her previous admiration for Miss Street's resilience and strength, Gertie's opinion of her former superior had only grown once she had struggled to get the hang of the full amount of her tasks and duties.

Today, he had sounded distant and morose when he had whispered to her on the phone, his voice hushed to avoid waking his wife whose sleep he was guarding in the hospital he was calling from. Gertie's eyes had gotten wet from worrying over Della and the bond of romance she knew was strong between the Masons. She had always envied them for feeling so strongly for each other and couldn't believe to hear her steely boss, for the first time in many years, so close to personal defeat.

_"Is there anything I can do?"_ Gertie had asked and struggled, in shorthand, to keep up with Mr. Mason's staccato requests. Now brooding over the testimonies he had asked her to sift through until she would hear from Paul, Gertrude Lade sighed and refrained from rubbing her perfectly made-up eyes. Sitting at her front desk, she wondered if she shouldn't just have used Mrs. Mason's desk for her tedious research instead. It was bigger and better equipped, offering direct access to dictionaries, closed case files and the law library. With the practice closed for foot traffic at this hour, Gertie could easily relocate to the inner office but apart from sorting the morning mail, the assistant had never really gotten comfortable occupying the desk of the head of office and had even agreed with her boss to leave it untouched during Miss Street's unfortunate _leave of absence_.

Going through Margie Rodger's case now, Gertrude Lade felt reminded of a conversation she had once overheard without intend – an uncomfortable glimpse into the kind of tension she felt had returned to Perry Mason's office today.

_"What's this?" _Perry Mason had sounded aghast, his strides long and determined as he had approached his secretary's desk.

_ "My two weeks notice," _Della Street had answered in a calm and steady voice._  
><em>

_ "Della, you can't..."_

_ "No, Perry," _the secretary had interrupted him gently._ "You can't close your eyes to the consequences of this situation. Concealing them for another two weeks will be hard enough."_

_ "Then marry me," _the attorney had pleaded, unaware of the half-open door that led to the reception area.

_ "Is that your solution? To rush into a marriage you never wanted in the first place?"  
><em>

_ "You know that isn't true," _he had whispered to mask his sudden anger._ "I've always wanted you."_

_ "Yes," _Della had agreed under her breath._ "And because you do I'm now carrying our child."_

The great attorney had glared at her with a helpless expression written all over his face._ "I don't understand how you can be so pragmatic about any of this! How you can just write this note and be ready to leave." _His hand had hit the table in a frustrated thud.

_ "I'm beginning to show." _The secretary had struggled, her voice trembling from an overwhelming mix of emotions._ "I can't afford to wait for you to not regret having a family with me. I cannot wait for you to make us your priority."_

_ "But I love you, darling," _Perry Mason's voice had been scarcely audible.

_ "I love you, too." _Della had lost the fight against her tears but had suppressed a sob_. "Which is why I have to go. I cannot be the one who is tainting your career."_

Gertie had jumped at the sound of the connecting door thunking shut, had tried to keep her composure when Della Street had approached her about some typing half an hour later, her own fingers too shaky to produce an immaculate typescript.

_"Are you doing all right?"_ Gertie had finally asked and admired the effort Della had invested in giving her a little smile.

_"Why, of course, I'm fine,"_ the secretary had lied, the unconscious caress of her own hand betraying the growing secret inside her belly - a secret that had suddenly seemed so obvious to Getrude Lade yet shocking all the same.

"Are you ready to call it a night, doll?" Paul Drake interrupted the assistant's unpleasant memories. Leaning against the door frame, he was lasciviously smoking a cigarette, unaware of the splendid timing of his appearance.

"How long have you been standing there?" Gertie asked and shook her head to erase the last snippets of a gloomy conversation.

"Long enough to know that I should drag you out of here sooner rather than later." The detective smirked.

"I wish I could let you do that," Gertie yawned, then fluttered her lashes to convince her eyes to refocus on her task at hand. "But the boss called a while ago and asked me to go through all the testimonies of the preliminary hearing."

"Oh c'mon," Paul insisted. "There's a bunch of girls eager to get entertained and a nice warm dinner waiting for us along with them."

The young assistant looked at him with a sad little smile. "You wouldn't know it, but I was actually looking forward to spending time with them tonight."

"And now you aren't?" The detective walked towards her, stubbed out his cigarette and sat lazily on the edge of her desk.

"The circumstances have somewhat clouded my anticipation," Gertie admitted.

"Oh, don't be like that," Paul placed his hand on hers in a reassuring caress. "You know Della wouldn't want to know she spoiled your evening like that."

"It's not her fault," Gertrude Lade was anxious to make clear. "But the entire situation is kind of..."

"Dissatisfying?" The private eye entwined his fingers with the former receptionist's, following a routine Perry loved to uphold with his beautiful wife. "How do you think they feel?"

"I really don't want to trade places with them," Gertie said quietly.

"Well, in a way you will have to," Paul smiled and encouraged her to take the open case file on the road. "And I know you'll do just fine."

* * *

><p>When they reached the Mason home a good hour later, the detective smiled when he saw the curtains move inside. Seconds later, the door opened to reveal a stern Aunt Mae who tried to tame an amped set of giggling curly-heads.<p>

"Thank goodness you are finally here," she shouted sweetly. "I'll open the garage door for you, it' supposed to rain later."

Mouthing a quick little thank you at the elderly lady, Paul backed his convertible off in position to find shelter for his gem and smirked at Gertrude Lade for still going through the files Perry had merely asked her to skim. When he parked the car and opened the driver's door to exit, he shot a side glance at Della's busy assistant, amazed by the familiarity of the picture beside him.

"Are you coming?" The detective asked, clearly amused.

"Hmm?" Gertie returned without lifting her eyes from the page she seemed to have grown fond of in the past five minutes.

"Della sure taught you well." Paul sighed, opened the trunk to unload their overnight bags, then held the door for Gertie to elegantly swing her legs out of his priced possession.

When they finally entered the welcoming Mason home, Mae gave the house guests a proper hello before she allowed the Mason offspring to shower them with effervescent affection.

"I hope you are hungry," Mae asked and took Gertie's coat, then Paul's.

"Always," Paul beamed, pulled Amy close in a tight embrace and lifted Phoebe up high into his arms. "And I've been eagerly anticipating your culinary magic all day."

* * *

><p><strong>Author's note:<strong> Thanks so much for all your lovely reviews and messages, for your continued encouragement and patience. I'm sorry for this renewed delay but will deliver the next chapter soon. :) And rest assured, it will contain some D/P romance.


	23. Chapter 23

**Chapter Twenty-Three**

Paul Drake smiled when he smelled his favorite dish before it was even served: meat loaf, green beans and Lyonnaise potatoes - his emerald eyes grew wide, his tongue wet his lips and thus increased his goddaughters' giggles as they tried to sit still at the large dinner table.

"Whatever did you say to them when you dropped them off after school today?" Mae entered the dining room with a steaming casserole, her hands clad in two large pot holders Amy had crocheted for her birthday. "They've been untamable all afternoon."

"Nothing." The private eye shot Mae an innocent look, then winked at Phoebe who looked as if she was ready to spill the beans.

"Just like their father." The old lady shook her head and feigned a sigh. "Spoiling them rotten."

"I'm their godfather," Paul gave her a warm, disarming smile. "That's my job."

"Then what's Perry's excuse?" Mae held his gaze with an expression that resembled Della's non-nonsense face until she couldn't resist mirroring the detective's good-natured smirk.

"Now that's better." Paul patted the elderly woman's warm, strong hands. "Now let's eat before I'm drooling all over dinner and ruin it for everybody else."

* * *

><p>At St. Mary's hospital, Perry Mason arranged the roses his wife's assistant had had delivered from the office and placed two plates on the table by the window overseeing a little park.<p>

"What are you doing?" Della exited the bathroom in her overnight bathrobe, his pj trousers rolled up to fit her size but still long enough to cover her naked feet.

"Due to unseen circumstances I cannot take you to dinner as planned," the attorney started and lit the candle he had just managed to fit into a portable holder. "That's why I'm bringing dinner to you."

Charmed by his initiative, Della sought his embrace to treat him to a loving kiss. "I'm afraid I can't have any of those delicious French dishes you have been looking forward to all week," she said with true regret. "But I really love the thought you put into planning this on such short notice."

"Do you really think I'd torment you with food you aren't allowed to eat?" Perry shot his wife a reproachful smile, then answered her kiss with one of his own. "I see I have to work on my reputation."

"Oh, it's not as bad as you think," Della teased her husband and gladly accepted his offer to sit down with him on his lap. "Rumor has it you just fell prey to my honey trap. You haven't been the same courtroom trickster since."

"Well, I like to take my theatrics elsewhere these days," Perry whispered and proved his point by nuzzling his wife's tender neck.

* * *

><p>"I really can't have another piece," Paul sighed happily, the button of his trousers already open to fit in the second piece of pie on his dessert plate.<p>

"I'll put it on the kitchen counter for later," Mae said with a motherly smile. "You may need the energy."

"I bet he will," Gertrude Lade chuckled and tried to soothe a cranky Katie in her arms. "Oh you poor darling," she said. "Does it hurt that bad?"

"The waffles are in the icebox if you need them," Mae repeated her former advice. "Her toys and blankets are upstairs. Liz is sleeping right now, God bless her heart. She has cried herself to exhaustion before you arrived."

"How long has this been going on?" Gertie asked.

"A little over a week now," the elderly lady replied with an honest yawn. "It wouldn't be so bad if only they didn't take turns like this. But once Katie has calmed down, Liz is up and wailing. You'll see. By tomorrow morning, you'll both be happy to come home to the quiet and peace of your own apartments."

* * *

><p>Feeding his wife another fork of steamed rice and fresh vegetables, Perry Mason smiled when he found her appetite increasing despite the limited variety of food he had been able to organize. Clay had outdone himself by delivering vegetarian pasta, rice and tomato soup with Della's favorite Focaccia bread. However, he had not been able to come up with a mouth-watering dessert other than a colorful fruit salad Della seemed to be looking forward to more than expected.<p>

Returning the favor of being treated to all the healthy and delicious food their friend had whipped up for them, Mrs. Mason finally wiped her husband's tomato-rimmed mouth with a napkin Clay himself had folded into a heart to congratulate them on their special day.

"This really is an anniversary to remember," Della whispered and locked lips with her husband to prove how grateful she was for his gift.

When they came up for air again, Della buried her face in Perry's neck and moved her arms around his torso. "I love you. I always have."

Pulling her closer to him, he moved one of his hands over her back in a loving caress only to come to rest in her tousled curls. "I should take you back to bed now, baby." His lips softly grazed her ears and jawline, replacing the words he didn't find to say.

* * *

><p>"Well, I don't know." Paul Drake shrugged and tried hard to find his balance on the little stool Phoebe had provided for him in her room. "They sure look like cotton candy, so maybe clouds do taste like sugar."<p>

"How come you don't know?" The five-year-old asked and blinked her bright blue eyes. "Aren't you a detective?" She smiled with pride at managing the word her mother had taught her the other day.

"I am." Paul shot her a puzzled look and found a familiar intensity of blue glaring back at him. "But no one has asked me to investigate the flavor of clouds before."

"How much do you charge?" Phoebe queried, copying a phrase she must've overheard at her parents' office.

"Two cents an hour." The private eye tried to suppress a chuckle. "Expenses are covered by your dad."

"How much is my allo...," Phoebe stopped to remember the word she was looking for.

"Allowance," Amy helped her little sister from across the tiny tea table. "A dollar a month for your piggy bank."

"How much is that?" The five-year-old asked matter-of-fact.

"Enough to pay Uncle Paul for fifty hours," her big sister answered quickly.

"And how much is that?" Phoebe sounded frustrated like her father when he didn't get to the bottom of a problem right away.

"Two days and two hours," Amy returned as calmly as their mother.

"Is that enough time for you to taste some cloud?" The little girl bore her inquisitive eyes into her uncle-in-name.

"I'll ask Gertie to give you a time estimate tomorrow," Paul gave back and accepted Amy's offer for another cup of imaginary tea, then smirked at Phoebe who looked at him in mild confusion.

* * *

><p>Lying on the hospital bed, Perry Mason was holding his wife in a protective embrace. Her back was pressed against his heaving chest, their legs leisurely entwined while her hands were cupping his. Della's head was resting on his upper arm, the warmth of her breath forming goosebumps on his skin, her sculptured cheeks nestling against his triceps. Perry placed a loving kiss onto his wife's curly head to trigger a contented smile. His moan was quiet when her curled up lips met his tender skin, when her lashes caressed his arm right where her cheeks were already leaving him vulnerable. Della squeezed her hands against his and snuggled her body closer to his.<p>

"I've missed this," the attorney whispered, his lips now freely grazing her hair and neck.

"U-hmm," his wife agreed and closed her eyes again to the soft massage of his hands on her belly. They had lain entangled like that for two hours, interrupted only by her peaceful slumber that had finally left Della with pleasant dreams again. Now awake, her neck was stiff from lying in his arms but her body was warm.

"Are you uncomfortable?" Mrs. Mason asked guiltily and turned around in her husband's embrace to lose herself in his welcoming kiss.

"You skin is way too cozy, your curves too soft and snugly for you to ever cause me discomfort." Perry stole another buss.

"Snugly?" Della chuckled lightly. "You are tipsy from too much necking."

"And I'm just getting started," Perry Mason smiled and proved his point by leaving her breathless for endless minutes.

When Della finally leaned back to catch some air, her cheeks were blushed, her eyes closed and her swollen lips wore a sinful smile. "I hope you are prepared to hold that thought until tomorrow."

"But Richard asked me to spoil you tonight," Perry Mason tried to argue the case in his favor.

"Sharing this bed will have to do." Mrs. Mason gave him an apologetic caress. "But tomorrow I promise to allow you to spoil me in any way you please."


	24. Chapter 24

**Chapter Twenty-Four**

It was 10pm when an unknown voice ripped Perry Mason out of his dreams.

"And what do we think we are doing?!" A hard-nosed night nurse stood beside Della's hospital bed, one arm holding her wrist to take her pulse, the other shaking a thermometer with so much force, Perry was afraid the broad-shouldered woman may use it as a weapon to chase him out of his wife's bed.

"We," the attorney started and emphasized his words by caressing his wife's shoulders, her form still blissfully asleep in his arms, "are following doctor's orders." He blinked his eyes to adjust to the light shining in from a quiet hallway. "What time is it?"

"Late enough for you to relocate to a guest room," the nurse ordered without a smile. "I was informed you are refusing to go home."

"I'm staying right where I am," Perry Mason replied, his arms suddenly protective of his wife.

"Not on my shift you aren't." The nurse glared at him and stopped wagging the thermometer in her hand, then reached out to touch her patient's shoulder.

"Don't wake her," Perry began to say like a lawyer until his voice betrayed the concerned husband. "Please. Let me do this."

Taking the thermometer from the nurse's hand despite her commencing protest, he gently tucked it in his wife's armpit and caressed Della's cheek when she started to stir a little in her sleep. "It's all right, darling," Perry whispered. "The nurse just wants to take your temperature."

Surprised by the display of conjugal affection in front of her very eyes, the nurse lowered her head and blushed when the famous attorney returned the thermometer minutes later and placed a loving kiss onto his wife's curls.

"98°," the nurse exclaimed quietly. "She's getting better."

"Good." Perry Mason exhaled relieved and watched how the nurse made notes on Della's chart.

"Did she eat?" The nurse demanded to know.

"Yes," Perry whispered proudly and grinned when Della's arm softly moved across his chest to cuddle up closer with him.

Clearing her throat, the nurse blushed once again. "You really shouldn't be here... Like this."

"I promise to leave if my presence stops benefiting my wife's health," the lawyer said sincerely. "Until then, it's my intention to make the most of our anniversary."

"This is a respectable hospital," the nurse began to protest, then noticed an approaching Doctor Hamilton.

"It's fine, Lynn," the doctor said with a soothing smile. "I told Mr. Mason to spoil his wife within the boundaries of our hospital rules."

"It's a major concession allowing him to spend the night in this room," the nurse noted calmly.

"I know it is," Doctor Hamilton agreed. "But Mrs. Mason is my wife's dearest friend and as long as she isn't taking dictation, I am fine with everything her husband does to improve her chances for a fast release."

Nodding in quiet disagreement, the nurse handed the doctor Mrs. Mason's chart, then excused herself from the room to attend to other patients.

"You know, when I said make Della happy, I didn't mean make my staff blush with your spousal devotion." Richard answered Perry's grin with one of his cheeky own. "I'm glad she is getting some rest though."

"She's been sleeping a lot," Perry announced softly and ran the back of his fingers over his wife's sculptured face. "She's always amazed me with her strength," he admitted after a while. "And with her ability to unwind from stress. When did that change?"

"Four kids demand more energy than two," Richard Hamilton answered matter-of-fact.

"But look at her now." Perry shook his head. "She's sleeping through our conversation like she once slept through an entire house full of children when she was pregnant with our twins."

"I remember that." Richard chuckled. "And I still don't know what was funnier: the fact that your wife only woke up after the last child had left or Paul Drake's exhausted revelation that he would never have kids." He paused. "Where is the old bum now?"

"Watching our girls." Perry revealed amused.

"Of course." The doctor shook his head. "And probably marveling at them the way he always marvels at their beautiful mother."

Perry nodded to Richard's innocent remark, aware that it bore more truth than the doctor would ever know. Holding Della now close to his heart, feeling the steadiness of her breath against his skin, he remembered a time, not too long ago, when he hadn't only lost the love of his life but also his best friend - at least for a while.

"What's going on?" Della asked groggily after Doctor Hamilton had long left.

"Nothing, baby," her husband answered with a tender kiss. "Go back to sleep."

"Tell me what's wrong," Mrs. Mason insisted but only found Perry looking down at her in a pensive mood. "You've been thinking so loud I heard you in my dreams."

"And what did you hear me think?" Perry smiled, always enjoying her getting playful.

"I heard you bossing me around to be a good girl and stay at home with our kids."

"I would never boss you around." Perry gave her a serious look, the kind he used to tease her out of her wits.

"It must be past midnight. My special anniversary treatment is over it seems."

"It's not that late yet," the attorney replied and leaned down to make up for his pensiveness. "I just recalled some bad memories, that's all."

"We had a lovely dinner and you've been holding me in your arms, enjoying some peace and quiet away from our brood and you have bad memories?" Della wrinkled her forehead. "I should really get a vacation and work on my moves."

Perry smiled, lifted her chin with one finger and pet her lips with his own until his tongue entered her mouth to deepen their kiss and leave her breathless. "Your moves are just fine," he whispered. "No need for improvement."

"You are in some mood today." The secretary's voice still trembled from the jolt her husband's kiss had sent through her a moment ago. "I'm beginning to wonder if Richard has told me everything about my condition."

"Well, you said you're sad you aren't expecting again," Perry reasoned with a cheeky smile.

"I was," his wife agreed more seriously than expected, then propped herself up to lock her eyes with his and started fondling her husband's hairy chest. "It would've been an easy answer to my symptoms. I've been pregnant before, I know how to cope with it. This condition, I don't know how to handle," Della admitted quietly, her eyes suddenly lowered, unable to hold her husband's loving glare. "It scares me."

Seeking her hand with one of his own, Perry Mason entwined their fingers like he had before and lifted her chin back up to meet his gaze with the other. He caressed her chin with his thumb, then fondled her lips and cheeks until he triggered the kind of smile he had drowned in so many times before. "You are not alone in this, darling," he reassured her and invited her lips to kiss his thumb. "I'm right here with you and I'll do whatever it takes to make you feel better."

"I do feel better already," his wife said under her breath, unwilling to give into a gloomy feeling.

"But it isn't enough," Perry leaned in to rest his forehead softly against hers. "One day of rest isn't enough to get you back on your feet. Please, Della, I need you. I can't afford to lose you again."

Freeing her fingers from his, Della moved both of her arms around her husband's broad form for as far as she was able to reach. When his tears fell, ever so silent, she pulled him down to rest his head in her lap and caressed his hair with shaking fingers. Allowing him to let go of his own fear, she soothed him with her loving touch, her own tears flowing now for causing him such a scare. When his tears dried up, Della invited her husband to cuddle up with her in her lap and showered him with tender kisses.

"I feel so blessed for having you in my life, Perry," she finally whispered. "And I wish I could erase the pain I caused you by going away for so long. But six years of marriage don't seem to be enough to make up for the memories we didn't get to share with our firstborn." She took a deep breath to swallow a pushy sob, then continued in a raspy voice. "And I knew the day would come when we would have to talk about it again, when living on wouldn't be enough to paper over the cracks of the rocky start we had to be a family."

"We agreed on not having regrets," Perry Mason argued and rolled over to one side, then pulled his wife along to lie in his arms again.

"And I didn't until Amy came to me last week and asked why she is different from her sisters. I know we told her she isn't but is that true?!" Della asked sadly. "Sometimes it isn't enough to just live by our own rules, Perry. Amy is only eight, she doesn't understand why it matters to others when she was born."

"Does it matter to you?"

"You know it doesn't," Mrs. Mason said. "But I'm not the one who is being pointed at in school and who has to endure those cruel jokes."

"No, you're just the one who has to read about herself in the paper." Perry held her tight. "That's why we're really here, isn't it?! It's not our work and our children that pushed you to the brink, it's this entire situation."

Della shrugged.

"Don't do this, baby," Perry Mason begged her. "Don't shrug me off."

"I'm not shrugging you off," Della Mason put her hand onto his chest to assure him that was the last thing on her mind and yet she was unable to hide her agitation.

"If you aren't honest with me, darling, then there is nothing I can do to make this go away," the attorney tried to reason but was interrupted by the unusually loud voice of his wife.

"You can't make this go away, Perry!" The words burst out of Della after all. "This trial isn't something that will just blow over. It's been weeks for us, preparing for this trial and the preliminary hearing. Weeks of gossip and defamation and bad press that has harmed our children and our business. We've had clients turning away from us because they lost faith in your judgment. You've done well in the past, but we can't just close up shop and retire for the rest of our lives. We have four mouths to feed and save up money for their education. We have a home to maintain, my aunt to look after after everything she's done for our family. And then there's Gertie and Paul. They depend on our practice, too. So does Jackson. We can't just pack our things and turn our backs on them all. It's not about you and me anymore, don't you see that?! I really don't care what Eva Belter is saying about me in that rag of hers. That woman has had it in for me since she first set foot in our practice and decided to acquire you like a piece of jewelry. I've never made a secret of how much I dislike her and I'm not going to start now. But I refuse to allow her or her fellow gossip mongers to upset me enough to ruin my health."

Not used to sudden outbursts like that from his wife, Perry Mason had lain shocked and motionless while Della had abruptly pushed herself away from him and almost tumbled out of the large hospital bed. Steadying herself without accepting his instinctive offer to help her, Della felt hot and angry deep inside. Her face was flushed, her skin prickled and her heart was beating fast. Like her mother and aunt, she detested losing her cool and felt she had made a fool of herself. When her husband blinked his eyes and gave her an unexpected smile, Della first crossed her arms, then started shaking from deep within. It wasn't fury bubbling up again, instead, it was a giggle. One giggle and another one, turning into a fit until she laughed so hard that tears were falling from her eyes, lifting a heavy weight from her mind.


	25. Chapter 25

**Chapter Twenty-Five**

Paul was sitting in the cushioned chair by the window that oversaw the front yard from the second floor. His eyes were wide as he drank in the view of the dimly lit driveway designed by the lady of the house with loving attention to detail. He remembered seeing the first sketches of her desired brick paver driveway embellished by a surrounding rose garden. He still didn't understand why Della had put so much energy in creating something that could so easily be destroyed in the next best earthquake, but the gleam in her eyes when she had observed the craftsmen realizing her designs had extinguished any further questions from his side. Instead, he now remembered watching her sitting on the front steps of the house Perry had bought in her name, her toddler daughter cuddled up in her arms, sharing her enthusiasm for turning their Colonial style house into a family home.

Paul sighed. He had been an observer then and was one now. With Elizabeth sound asleep in his arms and Amy and Phoebe tucked away in their beds, he heard Gertie walking up and down in the room across the hallway to soothe a cranky Kate. He closed his eyes to her steady rhythm, images crossing his mind, memories flying by a little too fast to hold on to a feeling he liked to deny he had after seeing her struggling today. Della's smile was what he remembered and the beautiful color of her sparkling eyes. He didn't recall what she had said that day more than eight years ago, but he had felt a change in the way she had squeezed his hand. He had let her go, unwillingly, and seen the tears falling from her eyes upon departure. Anger was what he remembered next, giving way to fury when he had barged into Perry's office to give him a piece of his mind. He was angry now, to see Della taking the backseat to Perry's practice again, but he knew his opinion didn't count. They were married, Della and Perry, four children, two cars, a home. It wasn't his place to say anything beyond what he already had.

"What are you mulling over?" A quirky voice suddenly whispered.

"Nothing." Paul preferred to avoid the subject, opened his eyes and watched how Gertie put a happy Kate down to sleep with an iced waffle to chew on.

"So, did you listen to Mae after all?" He grinned.

"I had no idea girls that age could be so persistent," the assistant moaned. "No wonder Della needs a break. One at a time is hard enough, but two?!" She tilted her head to relax her neck.

"And two more growing up fast." Paul's grin broadened.

"I'll never understand why she doesn't just quit running the office and allows her husband to lavish her with amenities instead. I'm sure he would in a heartbeat."

Thinking about Gertie's proposed image, Paul chuckled and shook his head. "Can you imagine Della delegating a house full of servants while she stays in bed all day, dressed in a silky robe with a fur collar, polishing her nails and touching up her lips until her husband comes home after a busy day?"

"Well, no," Gertie admitted with a charming giggle. "But I know I couldn't keep up with her pace, attending to a demanding husband, running a busy practice and raising four kids."

"Didn't you say you couldn't wait to have a family of your own?"

"I'm not so sure anymore," Gertie fibbed.

"It's all right," the detective tried to reassure her. "They say it's easier when they're yours."

"That's just another white lie my mother used to say. You just love them more when they're your own, so your perspective changes." Gertie leaned against the crib, careful not to wake her fosterling again.

"What made you so pragmatic," Paul asked bewildered.

"This little bundle of joy," Gertie answered quietly and caressed Katey's rosy cheeks. "And her sisters."

"Listen to that," Paul held his breath while getting up, "and I thought you were crazy about these kids."

"I am," Gertie agreed. "Maybe not as crazy as you are about them, but that's okay I guess."

Putting Liz down in her own bed without waking her up, Paul didn't respond to the remark until he turned around with a question mark written all over his face.

"Oh Paul." Gertie smiled. "It's not exactly a secret how much you love your god-children and it's all right. I understand it, they are Della's. They'll always have a special place in your heart."

Glaring at her, Paul gestured his friends' assistant to follow him outside to continue their conversation elsewhere. Tiptoeing downstairs, he finally sat on the coffee table to face Gertie who settled comfortably on the couch.

"What is it we are talking about here?" Paul asked quietly and reached out his hand to cup hers in a tender caress.

"I know you are in love with her," Gertie whispered. "You always have been."

"I'm not," Paul replied, his eyes seeking hers.

"You don't have to pretend with me," the assistant reassured him softly. "I've known for quite some time. You love her and it's fine."

"No," the private detective finally locked his eyes with the woman sitting only inches away from him. "I don't love her like that. Della is family and so is Perry," he reasoned. "That's all there is to it."

"But you adore her just like you adore those four precious dolls up there in their beds," Gertie tried to argue in her calm, telephone-trained voice.

"I won't deny that," Paul admitted. "But I don't have romantic feelings for Della. She and Perry, they are my best friends."

"But you broke off your friendship with Perry after he..." Gertie started but was interrupted by Paul's sincere voice.

"I was mad because I didn't protect Della like my little sister. I'm a man, I know how we can get when a beautiful woman is doting on us. For years, I knew they carried a torch for each other but Perry would merely hold her arm or allow Della to rest her head on his shoulder during a long hour drive out in the country. He teased and spoiled her, but they took me along so often, I got used to the way they were being friendly with each other. And that's what it was. They were friends like I am friends with them. Until I saw them kiss. I should've known Della would end up with child, that's the kind of kiss they shared. And I didn't speak up, I just took a French leave while they were practicing another kind of French."

"It must've hurt to realize she would never be yours."

"It just hurt to be the third wheel," Paul admitted. "And it hurt to see them so unhappy for a while."

"And now you're afraid to see history repeating itself," Gertie judged by the worried expression in his eyes.

"It's that doggone case," the detective released a frustrated sigh. "If we only found that missing link Perry needs to get Margie acquitted. I'm sure it would chase all those ghosts away."

"The vultures you mean," Gertie said. "I must admit, I've learned my lesson when it comes to gossip rags. Office tattle on the other hand is what led us to Margie's sister."

"There's an upside to almost everything," Paul replied with a half-hearted smile. "Isn't that what Della always says?"

Nodding, Gertrude Lade checked her watch an asked, "Did you hear from your men? Do they have a lead?"

"Nothing yet." Paul shook his head, then jumped at the sound of a knock and a shadow outside the living room window.

"Are you trying to give me a heart attack?" Paul grumbled moments later as he opened the front door to bid his operative Otto Samson to enter.

"You said you were on kid duty," Samson apologized and tipped his hat to greet Gertie. "I didn't want to wake the pack."

"That's very considerate of you," Gertrude Lade chirped.

"What gives?" The detective growled and closed the door.

"That dame you are looking for," Samson replied while thoroughly cleaning his shoes to not smutch Mrs. Mason's beautiful floor. "We found her."

"Where is she?" Paul glared at the operative who gladly accepted a steaming cup of tea from Gertie Lade's welcoming hands.

"Incapacitated," Otto Samson tried to put it gallantly to respect Gertie's presence.

"How so," Paul asked impatiently, a queasy feeling in his stomach bubbling up. "Don't mind Gertie's sensitivities. She's working for Perry Mason, she's seen a police report or two."

"She did away with herself," Samson finally confirmed his boss' apprehension and gave Gertie an excusatory smile. "I'm sorry, Miss."

"It's all right," the assistant mumbled, her hand covering her mouth in shock.

"When?" The detective asked, his face suddenly pale.

"Today," the operative replied. "They found her collapsed over the latest issue of Spicy Bits."


	26. Chapter 26

**Author's note: **I am really sorry for always keeping you waiting so long. I can't help it. At least, this time it wasn't work but Christmas season that kept me away from this platform. I hope you all had a good start into this new year. I am also grateful for all your lovely reviews and nudges. Thanks a million, you know who you are. I'll do my best to finish this story before long. ** :)  
><strong>

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Twenty-Six<strong>

Paul Drake looked at Gertrude Lade who was ushering out his trusted operative Otto Samson through the front door of the quiet Mason home, then leaned her back against the door from the inside and glared at him with wide eyes. "What now?" She asked, her face thoughtful and pale.

"We get to work until Samson reports back to me with further details," the detective said.

"What about Perry and Della?"

"What about them?" Paul queried, his eyes betraying his uncertainty about the situation.

"Aren't you going to let them know?" Gertie crossed her arms to think rather than comment on the private eye's emotional abeyance.

"What good will it do? All I can tell Perry is that the dame is dead."

"You know his mind works differently from ours," Gertie pointed out carefully. "What's fragmentary information to us may be the missing piece of the puzzle to Perry Mason."

"It's pushing 10:30, how am I supposed to get through to him?" Paul shook his head. "You don't know the watchdog of a nurse in the emergency room. I will never get past her to the sixth floor."

"Mrs. Hamilton arranged for Della to get accommodated in a private room. She has a phone." The assistant grinned and grabbed her purse from a hanger in the nearby closet to reveal her notebook.

"Where did you get that number?" Paul asked, not unimpressed.

"My boss gave it to me," Gertie responded. "For emergencies."

"This isn't an emergency," the private eye asserted.

"An accountant comes forward to tell you about an agreement between Margie's sister and the murder victim. An agreement that may or may not have a bearing on Margie's case. We can't ask her now because she took her own life, probably minutes before Otto could serve her with a subpoena. For all we know, she likely choked on the last issue of Spicy Bits and you don't think this is something the Masons would like to hear?" Arms on her hips now, unconsciously mimicking her office superior, Gertrude Lade shook her head. She knew why he didn't want to place the call, why he hesitate beyond his usual need to deliver information. "It's not your job to protect Della, you know. Her husband is right there with her, making sure she's fine."

Holding Gertie's gaze for an uncomfortable minute, Paul Drake finally held out his hand to get the necessary number and walked into Perry's home office to use the phone on his desk. Dialing at a snail's pace, he wet his lips and cleared his throat, unsure what to say.

* * *

><p>In Della Mason's hospital room, Perry Mason sat by the window and listened to the sound of running water in the adjoined bathroom. He had been tickled to see her loosening up only moments ago, her laughter reviving memories of simpler times when all they had to worry about had been their practice and themselves. Perry ground his teeth, his wife's words still sinking in. What if their trouble wouldn't go away? What if Della would never really be okay?!<p>

It was the phone that cut into his gloomy mood, the kind of melancholy he typically only felt when Della deprived him of her company for an undetermined period of time. "Yes?" The attorney growled when he picked up.

"It's Paul," a familiar voice said on the other end of the line. He sounded preoccupied.

"Are the girls all right?" Perry asked without thinking, his fatherly instincts refined these days and always alert.

"What?" Paul was confused for a moment, then seemed to nod. "Oh yes, they're fine. All tucked in bed and well behaved."

"Are you sure we're talking about the same quartet? Rich brown curls, dimple smiles?"

"All four of them," the private eye assured his friend. "But you know what they say: kids are always on their best behavior when their parents are far away."

Wearing a pleased little smile, Perry grumbled, "Is that why you called, to brag how easy it is for you to put my brood to bed? What gives, Paul? Let's have it."

"The dame you were looking for, Margie's sister," Paul Drake cleared his throat, then continued without further ado. "She was found in her home today."

"What happened?" Mason was impatient to know.

"She choked on the latest issue of Spicy Bits," the detective proudly quoted Gertrude Lade. "I'm waiting for Samson to get back to me with further details."

"I'll be at the office at six," Perry said after a pensive pause. "Try to get a copy of the police report. There's a lot of work we'll have to do before we go to court."

Before her could continue, the attorney spotted his wife standing in the bathroom door. Her feet were bare, her curls pinned up and damp, a towel draped around her curves so womanly and picture-perfect.

"I gotta go," the attorney mumbled and dropped the receiver on the cradle without saying a proper good-bye.

"Are the children okay?" Della asked, her face glowing and yet a little wan.

"Just fine," Perry said and tried hard to fake a smile.

"So, there's news about the case," Mrs. Mason stated, the answer apparent in her husband's face.

"You shouldn't be barefoot like that," Perry avoided her question, got up and nudged his wife's chin with his fingers instead, raised it up and met her lips for a tender buss. When he pulled away from her again, they stood only inches apart, his fingers slowly moving to her shoulders and down to her shoulder blades. Sending goosebumps down her spine, he reached the rim of her damp little towel and tugged at it with so much caution, it seemed he was afraid she could vanish right before his eyes. When the towel dropped to the floor, revealing the familiar beauty of her nudity to him, he allowed it to form a puddle around her feet. Then he reached out in slow motion to grab another towel from the hook by the door. Starting with her shoulders and back, he began to move the cloth over her sensitive curves, caressing her dry rather than rubbing. His eyes were fixed on her lips, slightly parted to release his favorite sound. Breathing hard, her voice bordered a rich, deep moan. Her eyes had long fluttered shut while her cheeks were treating him to a darkish pink.

Aroused by his touch, Della relaxed into her husband's arms when he finally raised her up to put her to bed. Slowly undressing before her, he smiled at the contented expression on her sculptured face, her eyes still closed to hold on to the sensuality of the moment.

"I'll be right back," Perry whispered as he stole another kiss.

When he returned minutes later, his skin still drying off from a hot quick shower, his legs were clad in his favorite PJs. Holding the matching top in his hands, he sat on the bed and found his wife not really awake, nor fast asleep. Dozing like she sometimes did on their couch in his office, she moaned in appreciation when Perry pulled her bare torso towards him to cover it with her part of his nightly outfit. Enveloped by his scent, she snuggled deep into her pillow when her husband had finally buttoned her up, then mumbled his name in gratitude.

Holding Della in his arms, her back pressed against his chest, her legs entangled with his, Perry pondered over the news Paul had given him over the phone.

"What's going on," his wife suddenly asked, her arms covering his on her belly, her hands caressing his skin. "What did Paul have to say?"

"Nothing you have to worry about," Perry answered, his lips grazing the top of her head. "Try to get some sleep."

"You are thinking too loud." Della snuggled up closer to him. "You know I can't sleep a wink when you're brooding like this."

"I'm sorry, darling, but I won't tell you." Perry smiled. "I know you're only trying to help but tonight, in this bed, we are not going to work."

"You must be running a fever to say that." Della frowned.

"I am," her husband replied and pulled his arms tighter around her body. "For you, baby. And all that matters now is that you sleep."


	27. Chapter 27

**Chapter Twenty-Seven**

Della woke to the sound of pencil on paper and the familiar tune of her husband's sigh, frustrated and low. His hands were rubbing his face to stay awake. His broad shoulders abruptly hit the back of a cushioned chair. Although her eyes were closed, she knew he was tearing his hair, sitting by the window, brooding over notes and their meaning, to solve a case he had never really found his footing in.

When Della Mason opened her eyes to check her watch on the nightstand nearby, she pushed away her covers and silently got on her feet to approach her husband on tippy-toes, then softly draped her bed-warmed blanket around his shoulders and quickly lowered herself into his stiff embrace. Loosening up upon physical contact, Perry shifted in his chair to make his wife comfortable on his lap, then pulled the blanket down to cover them both with maximum warmth. Her bare legs half folded around his thighs, Della's arms immediately found their habitual place around his torso and neck. She released a tired sigh, then shut her eyes as soon as her husband's lips softly grazed her head out of habit and delight.

"What are you doing up?" Perry Mason asked and buried a yawn in his wife's pinned-up mane. "It's barely 3am."

"I haven't slept more than four hours in a row in years." Della leaned her head against his neck and brushed her lips against his skin. "Please let me help you now with your case."

Closing his eyes to her tender treatment, Perry took a deep breath. "All right," he began. "But the second you get cold or tired you go back to bed."

"Yes, sir," the secretary teased her husband with an obedient smile. "So, tell me, what's going on?"

"Did you read the latest Spicy Bits?" the attorney started.

Della shook her head. "Why do you ask?"

"Eleanore Sutton, Margie's sister was found dead yesterday, collapsed over the latest issue of our family favorite," Perry explained while Della took in the news with a sharp intake of breath. "So I wonder: could there be a connection between Upton's murder and Eleanore's self-inflicted death?"

"If you ask like that, you are already convinced there is."

"I am," the attorney admitted. "I just don't know what it is." He inhaled the sweet scent of his wife's damp curls, distracting his thoughts for a moment until he scratched his nose on one of her bobby pins. "Oh, I hate these prickly little things. You look damn cute in them, I'm the first one to admit, but they sure put a damper on my cuddling techniques."

"I'm sorry," Della chuckled in response to her husband's growl. "You know how my curls look in all their natural glory. They are unruly and turn me into a shock-headed Peter. I had to do something to look presentable in the morning."

"You look as cute as a button when your curls are free and wild," Perry disagreed, his growl fading into a dimple smile.

"I thought you like my hair touched up and groomed," Mrs. Mason protested mildly and brushed her lips onto the fading scar on top of his aching nose.

"I do," Mr. Mason agreed. "But only when you use a curling iron. I love to watch how you transform yourself from the beauty only I know into the woman so many men envy me for. Little do they know." He gently dipped her head to access her mouth for a hungry kiss. "Little did _I_ know about all the little things you do that are so alluring. The sound of your wedding ring on the handle when you turn the curling iron in your hand. The glow on your face when you finally convince the last curl to behave and fall into place. Hmm, so enticing," he gushed.

"How long has it been since we last made love?" Della gently interrupted him, her lips pounding from his ravenous buss.

"Eleven days," Perry Mason replied without pausing to count. "I'm practically starved for your love."

"And I'm starved for solving this case of yours," the head of office suddenly prevailed, trying to break her husband's salacious mood and bring him back on track to finish his work. "Where were we?" Mrs. Mason asked, her thoughts still distracted from her husband's expert touch.

"We were looking for a connection between Margie, her sister and Eva Belter," the attorney responded with a self-righteous grin, pleased to find his wife struggling to suppress her affection for him.

"Now that's an obvious one," Della was quick to reply and fought her incipient arousal. "Upton & Mercer."

"All right. So what do we know?! Margie, Eleanore and Eva had a fling with Upton. Could it be that easy?" Perry Mason asked bewildered. "Do you think Eva Belter could be trying to pin her crime on our client out of jealousy?"

"It wouldn't be a first." Della shrugged. "After all, she also tried to pin her husband's murder on you."

"But why would she admit that Margie's innocent if she's in fact guilty herself? And why would Eleanore kill herself?" Perry ignored his wife's truthful remark and tugged at his earlobe to make sense of the puzzle at hand. "What could Eva know that made Margie's sister too afraid to go on living?"

"Maybe she wasn't afraid," Della speculated while leaning back to look into her husband's squinted eyes. "Maybe she lost her reason to live."

"What do you mean?"

"Didn't Margie tell us that Eleanore left her job rather suddenly and that she stayed out of town for almost a year?"

Perry nodded. "That's right."

"So I assume she was running away from something."

"Or someone," the attorney continued his wife's conclusions.

"Exactly," Mrs. Mason agreed. "Every secretary in town knew about Upton's reputation. He could be quite persistent about after hour complaisances. So what if Eleanore was more than just running away from an affair that may have gotten out of hand? What if she was also pregnant? What if Upton agreed to pay her for an abortion she never went through with? What if she didn't have it in her to kill her baby and rather stayed away for good, offering Margie a job as her replacement to cover her tracks?"

"That's what Paul suggested to me in court today." Perry nodded. "That Eleanore's husband is not the father of her child."

"According to Margie, Eleanore got married within a short few weeks after her disappearance and then got pregnant right away," Della reminded her spouse. "I bet her baby was delivered _prematurely_. We both know how many babies are these days. That's probably what Paul stumbled upon."

"So you think she didn't tell her husband," Perry asked quietly.

"Would you have married me if Amy wasn't yours?" Della returned matter-of-fact, aware of the touchy nature of the subject.

"I cannot answer that," the attorney said honestly. "I know you wouldn't have gotten yourself into a situation like that."

"Wouldn't I?" The secretary responded softly. "You cannot look at me through rose-colored glasses to evaluate the situation. I was a secretary who got involved with her boss and had his child out of wedlock. Those are the facts, Perry."

"It's also a fact that you didn't hide your pregnancy from the man you married."

"I didn't have to, he already knew," Della reasoned calmly. "Besides, our daughter was two when we took our vows."

"Are you telling me you agree with her decision to deceive the man she loved?" Perry Mason asked a mite disgruntled.

"I don't know if she loved her husband. Maybe she did and thus didn't tell him about the baby. Or she didn't care about him at all and it was just a convenience marriage for her," Mrs. Mason tried to soothe her spouse without backing down from her opinion. "All I know is that she was in a desperate situation, hapless and alone. I understand that rushing into marriage with someone else may sound horrible to you, but I don't blame Eleanore for trying to do the best for her child by looking for someone who provided security and an honest life."

"How honest is it to live a lie?!" Perry protested.

"Sometimes living a lie is the only way to survive," Della returned quietly. "Apart from being a philanderer, Upton also had a reputation for being hands on with women who turned him down or talked back at him. Eleanore may actually have been scared for her baby's and her own life."

"But why did Eleanore put Margie into such a dangerous position, sending her in as her replacement?"

"Don't you remember how Margie told you that Eleanore didn't think she would last very long? That, ingenuous as she is, she would soon feel overwhelmed and scared in Los Angeles and run back home to Mill Valley?"

"Only she didn't," Perry remarked.

"No, she didn't", Della agreed sadly. "Because she fell in love with the first man who showered her with compliments and flowers."

Perry Mason listened intently to what his wife had said. He knew the hidden comments behind her words, born out of cases like Margie's - cases he had, despite his wife's protest, not been able to resist. Allowing her insight to linger, Perry finally pulled Della's body closer against his chest and gently caressed her back and waist.

"Have I ever told you how lost I am without you by my side? I really need you to win my cases, baby. You are my lucky charm," the attorney suddenly confessed. "You alway remember those random pieces of information and make me understand the female mind."

"I just pay attention to different details, that's how we complement each other." Della smiled and pulled her husband into a lingering kiss. "You are still the legal mastermind in this family."

"I wasn't such a mastermind in the two years of your absence. Just ask Hamilton Burger," Perry Mason suddenly laughed. "He's the only one who's still secretly loathing your return."

"Don't be so hard on him," Mrs. Mason stole another buss from her husband's tender lips. "He's such a nice man outside of the courtroom. You know he is."

"That's another thing," Perry teased his wife with tiny little kisses. "You are way more compliant than I am which is a very agreeable quality in a wife," he kissed her."Mother." He kissed her again. "Friend and business partner."

Releasing a moan of quiet approval, Della slowly wiggled herself away from her husband's ardent embrace and reached out her hand for him to follow her to bed. "So what's Eva Belter's part in all of this?"

"I'll find out in court in exactly six hours." Perry smiled and gladly took his wife up on her offer, then lay down and held her in his arms for the rest of the night.


	28. Chapter 28

**Chapter Twenty-Eight**

Paul Drake cowered over papers and files cluttered on Perry Mason's desk, the attorney's study his quiet refuge in a house that had turned into a hotbed of hubbub and waterworks shortly before midnight. Unable to concentrate on more than a paragraph in an hour, he had finally closed the door and resorted to earplugs in order to prepare for his briefing with Perry in the early morning. Gertrude Lade, the sole line of defense in cranky territory since 1am, had graciously agreed to take care of the unhappy Mason twins while Paul was sifting through Margie Rodgers' case. Feeling guilty at first, the private eye had soon appreciated her altruism and re-evaluated his criticism of Della's habit to put her husband's professional needs before her private own. Cushioned by the solitude of Perry's ground level office, Paul recognized the significance of peace and quiet for the first time in his life and secretly dreamed of a night of uninterrupted rest.

When the door to his retreat opened around 3am, he was immediately warped back into reality, instantly reminded of the steady turmoil upstairs. Standing in the doorway, barely able to clasp the doorknob with her tiny hand, was Phoebe Rose. Her curls all tousled up, her eyes half-closed, she looked too precious to just be sent back to bed.

"Well, hello, Precious," Paul greeted the little girl who scuffed her naked feet as she walked towards him. "Did your sisters wake you up?"

Shaking her head, Phoebe stood in front of him and rubbed her eyes with her free hand, the other holding on to the teddy bear Paul had given her on the day of her birth. "I'm thirsty," the little girl yawned wholeheartedly, then blushed, remembering her mother's admonishment. "I'm sorry," she quickly added and covered her mouth with her hand.

Bewitched by her charm, Paul removed his earplugs and lifted his goddaughter up high into his arms. Gurgling in delight, her face one big dimple Mason smile, her eyes were wide awake in an instant, reflecting curiosity for the spread out material on her father's desk. "Are you learning about clouds?"

"I'm sorry, Precious, this is some work I'm doing for your dad," the private eye said, his eyes saddened. "No cloud business yet."

"It's all right," Phoebe reassured him sweetly. "You can ask daddy tomorrow if you're too busy."

"How would he know the flavor of clouds?" Paul was perplexed.

"Daddy knows everything," the curly-head answered proudly.

Amused by her firm conviction, Paul nodded but couldn't resist to pursue the subject. "And what about the things he doesn't know?"

"Ask mommy," Phoebe replied matter-of-fact. "Mommy knows everything else."

Unable to wipe a dashing grin from his face, Paul placed a swift kiss on his protégé's pillow-warm cheek and took a left turn into his favorite place of the Mason house, the large homey kitchen. "So what are we having?"

"Milk," the curly-head announced.

"Milk," Paul mumbled to himself and opened the refrigerator covered with family pictures, drawings and a busy schedule. "Coming right up."

Confronted with Tuppa sealed baby mash and bottles of baby milk, Paul was amazed by the amount of food the Masons managed to store in one little fridge. When he finally extracted a large bottle of white liquid from the dairy compartment and reached for a glass to pour his goddaughter a good mouthful, Phoebe protested noticeably.

"Mommy makes it warm. With mutneg," Phoebe insisted like her father would, proud to have remembered the right word - at least sort of.

"Of course she does," the private eye smiled to himself and put his goddaughter down on the kitchen counter to observe how he struggled to get the stove to cooperate with him. Fighting with matches and a cupboard that revealed everything but the utensils he needed, the detective made a mental note to himself: to tell Perry his wife was a real Jackie of all trades.

When the milk finally started to rise in the pot minutes later, Paul was quick to pour it into Phoebe's very own mug and proudly turned around to hand it to his nightly mischief-maker. But Phoebe, her dark brown curls covering much of her dollish face, was lying on the kitchen counter, her head nestled down in her teddy's lap, her thumb tucked into her little snout. She was asleep.

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><p>Upstairs, Gertrude Lade was rocking a cranky Elizabeth in her arms and listened to familiar footsteps on the stairs leading up from the kitchen. Paul Drake's distinctive stride, followed by the squeaking of a bedroom door and then he stood by her side, delighting her with his presence.<p>

"What are you doing up here?" Gertie fought to suppress a yawn. "I thought you were busy solving a case."

"Have you tried to get work done in this chaos?" Paul shook his head. "I will really have to apologize to Della tomorrow."

"Why," Gertie was surprised. "What did you say?"

"I was giving her a hard time over having Perry's back all the time. I had no idea she was being a saint doing this for him."

Rolling her eyes as she recalled their evening conversation, the assistant sighed. "You are teasing me on purpose now, calling Della a saint."

"I am," Paul grinned. "A little bit. But you have to admit you didn't expect this to be so much work either, handling four kids."

"Honestly?" Gertie agreed. "There are always so sweet and proper at the office. But here?! If I were Della, I'd already have told my husband to find another woman to do my job."

"Which one? I doubt she's willing to give either one of them up."

"Well, that's her decision. But I sure hope she's going to be back tomorrow because she's clearly more than one step ahead of me in this kid business," Gertie moaned. "No matter what I do, once one of these lovely creatures finally settles down, the other one is bouncing back up to give me an earful."

Chuckling at her honest frustration, Paul took a still quaking Liz from his co-sitter's arms and started rocking her back and forth. "They are just growing teeth. It's a phase that will pass."

Watching him for a moment, Gertie whispered, "You'll be a good father one day."

"You should've seen me the first time Della handed me Amy. I was so afraid to break her, she was still so small. Only a couple of days old, but her voice as assertive as her sisters'." Paul smiled down lovingly at Elizabeth who had finally calmed down a little bit. "She looked a lot like you, your big sister, did you know that? And cried as loudly as you as soon as your mother was out of sight. That's the problem, isn't it?! No matter how good those waffles are from the freezer, nothing is better than the arms and voice of your mother's, am I right?" Softly nudging her nose with his index finger, Paul studied his goddaughter's full, round face and the familiar smile that formed on her tired lips. "Now that's better. You are much prettier when you smile."

Observing Paul as he carefully lay Liz back into her bed, Gertie stood by the window, unable to swallow the gulp that formed in her throat. The detective was leaning over the bed for a while and softly caressed his goddaughter's tummy, reassuring her that he wouldn't go far away. Then he turned around and found tears glistening on Gertie's cheeks, the dim light from the outside highlighting them accordingly.

"What's wrong?" His voice was tender and low, but Gertie only shook her head, unable to put her feelings into words. "I will always love these kids, Gertie," the private eye continued softly. "I will never turn my back on them and go away."

"I'm not asking you to," the assistant sniffled and hid her face in his chest when he pulled her close to him.

"They are my family and so are Perry and Della," Paul continued quietly. "I know, you think I love her and I probably do. But I think I'm in love with you, too."

Looking up at him with her light blue eyes, Gertie couldn't release more than a tortured sigh and welcomed his lips for a tender first kiss. Enjoying his slow caress, she didn't need words to understand what he'd just tried to express. His arms possessive of her now, she lost herself in his embrace and opened her mouth to deepen their kiss. Feeling her heartbeat in her ear, Gertie was overwhelmed by the depth of his emotions, transmitted by more than just the tip of his tongue. When Katie's voice suddenly piped up to interrupt their bliss, Liz felt encouraged to join, full-throated and distressed.

"Oh, c'mon," Paul whispered a growl that made Gertie laugh. "As if you two hadn't seen enough kissing in this house to know when to keep quiet."

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><p><strong>Author's note: <strong>Thanks so much to all of you who are leaving comments. I'm really happy to know you are enjoying the ride. More Della and Perry coming SOON!


	29. Chapter 29

**Chapter Twenty-Nine**

The alarm went off at 5:30am and Della Mason groaned discontented. Deprived of her husband's warm embrace within a swift couple of minutes, she turned onto his side of the small bed and buried her face in the pillow that was now soaked with his scent. Bending down, Perry took the blanket and tucked it around his wife's curves, allowing his hands to treat her to a loving caress. Smiling blissfully, Della drifted back to sleep, her mind too fogged to know if his lips kissed her for real or if she was already dreaming.

As always when she was drifting in and out of sleep, Della's dreams were frantic and confusing with a glimmer of sensual longing. When she woke again, her heart was racing, leaving her disoriented for a moment. Turning on her back in slow motion, the secretary blinked her eyes and listened to the soothing sound of running water. In the bathroom, the door ajar, her husband stood with a towel around his hips, humming a tune so familiar to her heart, her mind instantly followed it.

"Did I wake you?" Perry asked as he exited the steam-filled bathroom.

"I don't mind as long as you're humming that tune for me." Mrs. Mason purred like a kitten as she stretched her arms and legs.

"_So come what may I want you to know, I'm yours alone and I'm in love to stay_," the attorney whispered, leaning down for only her to hear his singing.

"I've always loved that song," Della wallowed in her husband's rendition.

"So have I," Perry Mason hummed quietly into her ear. "_Day by day I'm falling more in love with you_." Nuzzling his wife's neck, he slowly withdrew himself from her with apparent regret and grabbed the clothes Della had neatly folded the night before. "I better get dressed. I'm running late."

Looking after him, Della yawned and nestled back down in her comfortable pillow, dozing off to the smooth melody of her favorite song. Moments later, she was roused by the rattle of two nurses approaching her with a thermometer and needle to take more blood from her tired arms. Only half awake, the secretary listened to the soothing sound of her husband's baritone and flinched slightly upon intrusion, a cold needle pricking her aching veins. Perry's voice hummed in the background. "_There isn't an end to my devotion, it's deeper dear by far than any ocean_", Della's mind added the lyrics and reveled in the bewitching tune. What she would give to just hop out of bed and accompany him to court today.

"Did you sleep in these?" The head nurse asked brusquely, forcing Della to open her eyes and pointing at the bobby pins in her hair. Then she tore out the syringe without much compassion for her five star patient who winced in pain for an unseen second.

"Until a couple of minutes ago I did," Della answered sleepily and held her tender arm.

Smiling at her in sympathy was the young nurse from the day before. "Good morning, Mrs. Mason."

"Good morning," Della smiled back and fought her discomfort about the young nurse making her bed while she was still lying in it.

"I hear your husband is still with us," the head nurse grumbled, disapproving of the male noise in the background.

"He'll be out of your hair in a little bit," Della replied and politely covered a yawn with one of her hands.

"I sincerely hope his overnight stay was a rare exception. This is a hospital, not a bed and breakfast," the nurse complained.

"Duly noted," Perry Mason replied as he exited the plumbing unit the hospital was calling a bathroom, a smug grin crossing his scrubby face. "I won't ask for eggs and ham then."

"You haven't shaved." Ignoring the ache in her arm, Della sat up and began to fix her husband's tie as soon as he leaned down to treat her to her morning kiss.

"I will at the office," Perry assured her, pleased about his wife's affectionate mood.

"You can also change into a fresh suit and tie." Holding on to his freshly tied cravat, Della pulled her husband down to meet her for another buss. "I just put a new set in your backup closet the other day."

"If you're ever looking for a job, Mrs. Mason, do call my office," the attorney grinned.

"Oh, I'm quite satisfied with my current employment, sir," Della returned in a cheeky whisper. "It comes with all kinds of benefits."

"Do tell," Perry Mason started but was interrupted by the head nurse clearing her throat with severe depreciation. "I better go now," he whispered and kissed his wife again. "But tonight I'll fill you in on our case and treat you to a whole new set of benefits." He smirked.

Smiling back at him, Della dropped her hands to her husband's and only let him go with quiet reluctance. Looking after him to exchange another last glance before he closed the door from the outside, she sighed to herself, then held up her good arm to meet the hovering head nurse half way.

"Do take my blood pressure while it's still high," Mrs. Mason said and caused the younger nurse to giggle. "I'm not planning to trouble you another night."

* * *

><p>When Perry arrived downtown, he saw the light before he had even unlocked the back door to his office.<p>

"You are late," the attorney was greeted by his private detective, his body slouched on the office couch, a thermos jug of coffee already opened to keep him awake.

"I am." Perry Mason entered and closed the door behind him with a thud.

Propping himself up, Paul rubbed his face. "How's Della?"

"Impatient to get back to work."

"Naturally." Paul shook his head and looked at his old friend, concern written all over his face. Pulling himself up from the couch, he grabbed a paper bag from the round table by the window and threw it across the room like a football.

Catching it mid-air, Perry was skeptical about its content and barely dared to open the bag to take a sniff. "What's this?"

"Breakfast," Paul yawned and stretched his limbs. "Peanut butter and jelly. It was the only thing Gertie was able to put together without burning your place down at 5am. The doll was up all night nursing your cranky twins. I've not seen her so tired in her life. Poor kid."

"They usually turn up the volume after midnight." Perry took a bite, then walked around his desk to pour himself a cup of coffee. "Taking turns until they're exhausted."

"So we've noticed," the private eye couldn't hold back another yawn. "I really don't know how your wife is doing it."

"She has more aptitudes than she's aware of," the attorney raved quietly. "But she will have to learn to accept more help."

"It's going to take some effort to convince her no doubt."

"I have my ways," Perry said and gave his friend the kind of look that told him he was through discussing his wife. "Now, what gives, Paul? What does the police report say about Eleanore Sutton's death?"

* * *

><p>At 8am, Doctor Hamilton approached Mrs. Mason in her room. As expected, his patient sat at the small table by the window, neatly clad in a navy shirtwaist dress, white cardigan and scarf. Her feet were curled underneath her on the chair, her table orderly: an empty breakfast plate, her notepad and a mug. No signs of crumbs.<p>

"I hope that's not work," Richard startled her out of taking notes.

"Just some thoughts," Della replied gracefully and shoved her pencil behind her ear. "Nothing important."

Leaning over her shoulder to check her words, the doctor smiled. "You're lucky shorthand has never been my strong suit."

"I suppose I am," his patient replied and took a sip from her mug feigning innocence while returning his smile.

"I see you had your breakfast," Richard Hamilton sat on her bed, properly made and neat. "That's good."

"Good enough to get me out of here?"

"I asked the lab to rush your results but so far all I see are signs of recovery," the doctor replied seriously. "Your temperature is back to normal and your blood pressure is not dismal. So if you promise to stick to your diet for at least six weeks until we can run further tests, I will gladly release you into your husband's care today."

"Thank you," Della whispered.

"Don't thank me before you've seen the bill," Richard grinned. "We're charging you extra for the star treatment."

"In my defense, I didn't ask for it."

"Of course you didn't, but neither my wife nor your husband would have had it any other way." Taking her hand into his for a moment, Doctor Hamilton sat quiet for a moment, then addressed his patient with warm severity. "Yesterday, I agreed to let Perry stay with you because I knew you'd benefit from his care. Looking at you today, I don't regret my decision. But you can't just jump back into action and be Mrs. Perry Mason again, devoted wife, mother and secretary. I'm sending you home to your family to rest."

Registering her quiet nod, the doctor continued softly, "I'm serious. Don't take a detour to stop by the office or see how Perry's doing in court. I mean go home, Della. Take a nap with your lovely twins and let Mae cook something nice for you that's low on fat. You'll need time to find a new balance in life but I'm sure Perry will go out of his way to support you. If you let him. And if you possibly can, consider going away for a couple of days - with your husband if you can't be without him. But please, Della, don't brush this off as a scare and keep going like you always do. I'd hate to see you in my care here at the hospital for anything else but another pregnancy. Okay?"

Flickering her lashes to mask her emotions over her friend's concern, Della whispered a demure little "yes".

"All right then," Richard sighed relieved. "Laurie will be here in an hour to drive you home. Get your things ready and I'll see you down later."

Pursing her lips to protest, the secretary was stopped before she could even raise her voice. "Trust is good, control is better." He grinned. "No discussion about it. I know you're incurably devoted to your lawyer husband."

* * *

><p>At Perry Mason's office, Paul Drake sat at the large table by the French window, pouring himself another cup of coffee while the attorney changed and shaved in his office bathroom.<p>

"So all it boils down to Eva Belter." Paul shook his head. "You should listen to your wife more often. She's warned you about that dame all along."

"Della thinks she might be guilty."

"I'm sure she is." Paul helped himself to Perry's untouched sandwich. "Question is what she's guilty of."

"Jealousy, Della suggested. Blackmail perhaps."

"And you agree?" Paul mumbled through a large bite of peanut butter and jelly.

"Did Samson talk to her husband?"

"Whose husband? Eleanor's?!" Paul checked his notes. "Oh yes. Was shell-shocked to hear about his wife's demise. Seemed genuine. Must've loved her, Samson reported. His instincts are good, he's usually right."

"Did we subpoena him?" Perry Mason finally emerged from the bathroom, changed into the fresh suit his wife had promised him and wearing her favorite aftershave.

"Couldn't," the detective replied with a shrug and stuffed the rest of his friend's sandwich into his mouth. "He was taken in for questioning by the local police and sent down to L.A. to serve as a witness for the prosecution."

"It looks like we'll be having an interesting day in court today, Paul." Perry grinned and grabbed his coat and hat. "Let's go."


End file.
